Repulsive. The word sounds just like what it represents, especially when the syllables are drawn out and spoken in a low, menacing whisper.

Before I am able to deflect it, the memory of that old man in a green car takes hold over my consciousness.

Damn. I’d really thought that if I put my sunglasses on, I wouldn’t notice it as much. I’d always thought the colour of blood was more or less a shade of crimson. Darkened and sort of dull. I wasn’t prepared for the in-your-face bright red of spurting blood. Not that I’d ever actually seen blood spurting, until now.

“Is life worth living?” questioned a masculine voice.

The dimmer switch connection of my brain was turned down way low. I couldn’t answer him right away.

“Eden? Did you hear me?”

The man was persistent. I touched my cheekbone with my fingers as that side of my face stung and throbbed at the same time. “What just happened?” I asked.

A graceful hand turns
the body of a fist-sized fruit,
sensing the ripeness.

Each time I had embarked on this hike, I always chose the month of May, right in the middle of blackfly season. The cool air carried the scent of newly-formed moss, decaying leaves and the rich aroma of ancient black dirt. My ears always located the gurgling of the small stream before I found it with my eyes.