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Authors: Robert Stallman
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fallen tree. "I smelled it one time when Fred and Uncle Jake and I went up to Wyoming to hunt cougars and stuff. There was a cave there that we almost got the bear from, but he smelled us and got back out of the canyon before we could get to the horses."
"Well, I don't want to find a bear in the dark, and neither do you," the girl says, very sensibly, I think.
"I bet Uncle Jake could bring his 30-30 right out here and, get that old bear," the boy says, stamping around in the leaves like a buffalo.
The danger is slow to dawn in my mind, dulled as I am with pain and the constant effort on keeping many sets of muscles in a state of tension. What if the boy does bring men with guns, and dogs, perhaps, to this woods? I am sure to be discovered, perhaps killed in my weak state. I would have to move, and I do not know the area. I don't know if I am even near the same city or in the same state. Bill Hegel could have driven anywhere to set up my death. His name in my mind brings on a feeling that I put down because it is totally inappropriate, but there is a mixed rage in it against the agent of my near death. He has succeeded in maiming me for a long time, perhaps ultimately killing me. I think about the feeling and put it away for later.
The young boy isstill kicking through the leaves. I will have to stop this or he will stumble right in on top of me. I feel anger toward him and want him to stop. I hear his feet suddenly stop. The giri's feet also stop. At that I realize what has happened. In my intense need for food, I drew them to me as I was drawing the dog. They left their car and came walking through the woods at my command. And now we are all trapped. The boy has scented me, and if what he says is true, he might bring back men and dogs to kill me, so in a very real sense I cannot allow him to leave. I could kill them both, but their automobile is not far away, and there would be an even more intense hunt for clues to their murder. I consider briefly trying to eat them both and burying what is left. But again, what of the car? I cannot stand upright, much less push an automobile down the road. What if I could push it? Could I push it back onto the railroad tracks and let another train do what was done to me? It is out of the question. I am probably too weak to even make a grab at one of them, much less do all that is in my mind. Even if I were healthy, it would be an onerous task, as I do not relish eating humans any more than I do their dogs. They are simply not creatures that it is a pleasure to eat, and my growing feelings of identification would make it difficult, an act almost of cannibalism. I can do this thing, I am thinking while I hold the two of them motionless in the dark woods with my will, but I do not want to. It is more trouble than it is worth. I try relaxing my hold on them to see what they do.
"Oh Stanley, what are we doing out here?" the girl almost screams. "I'm scared. Come on!" And she is off, running toward the car.
"OK, OK, I'm coming," the boy says, taking off after her at a run.
Stop!
I hear them skid to a stop near their car. They are motionless. I can still stop them, even at that distance. Perhaps desperation adds somewhat to the power I hold over their individual wills. Now I know they are frightened, and that if I release them for an instant they will be gone before I can concentrate and grab them again. The strain is beginnning to make me dizzy and weak. An idea begins to grow, so that I make them turn and begin walking back toward my lair.
As they approach with reluctant feet through the dark leaves, I plan as far ahead as I can with another part of my mind, and at the same time my body is moving various muscles, preparing for an effort that I convince my body is necessary. Some sacrifices at this time so we may survive, is the message. The two young people are standing at the edge of the dug-out place by the fallen tree now, their minds held steady by my own will. I reach up
"Well, I don't want to find a bear in the dark, and neither do you," the girl says, very sensibly, I think.
"I bet Uncle Jake could bring his 30-30 right out here and, get that old bear," the boy says, stamping around in the leaves like a buffalo.
The danger is slow to dawn in my mind, dulled as I am with pain and the constant effort on keeping many sets of muscles in a state of tension. What if the boy does bring men with guns, and dogs, perhaps, to this woods? I am sure to be discovered, perhaps killed in my weak state. I would have to move, and I do not know the area. I don't know if I am even near the same city or in the same state. Bill Hegel could have driven anywhere to set up my death. His name in my mind brings on a feeling that I put down because it is totally inappropriate, but there is a mixed rage in it against the agent of my near death. He has succeeded in maiming me for a long time, perhaps ultimately killing me. I think about the feeling and put it away for later.
The young boy isstill kicking through the leaves. I will have to stop this or he will stumble right in on top of me. I feel anger toward him and want him to stop. I hear his feet suddenly stop. The giri's feet also stop. At that I realize what has happened. In my intense need for food, I drew them to me as I was drawing the dog. They left their car and came walking through the woods at my command. And now we are all trapped. The boy has scented me, and if what he says is true, he might bring back men and dogs to kill me, so in a very real sense I cannot allow him to leave. I could kill them both, but their automobile is not far away, and there would be an even more intense hunt for clues to their murder. I consider briefly trying to eat them both and burying what is left. But again, what of the car? I cannot stand upright, much less push an automobile down the road. What if I could push it? Could I push it back onto the railroad tracks and let another train do what was done to me? It is out of the question. I am probably too weak to even make a grab at one of them, much less do all that is in my mind. Even if I were healthy, it would be an onerous task, as I do not relish eating humans any more than I do their dogs. They are simply not creatures that it is a pleasure to eat, and my growing feelings of identification would make it difficult, an act almost of cannibalism. I can do this thing, I am thinking while I hold the two of them motionless in the dark woods with my will, but I do not want to. It is more trouble than it is worth. I try relaxing my hold on them to see what they do.
"Oh Stanley, what are we doing out here?" the girl almost screams. "I'm scared. Come on!" And she is off, running toward the car.
"OK, OK, I'm coming," the boy says, taking off after her at a run.
Stop!
I hear them skid to a stop near their car. They are motionless. I can still stop them, even at that distance. Perhaps desperation adds somewhat to the power I hold over their individual wills. Now I know they are frightened, and that if I release them for an instant they will be gone before I can concentrate and grab them again. The strain is beginnning to make me dizzy and weak. An idea begins to grow, so that I make them turn and begin walking back toward my lair.
As they approach with reluctant feet through the dark leaves, I plan as far ahead as I can with another part of my mind, and at the same time my body is moving various muscles, preparing for an effort that I convince my body is necessary. Some sacrifices at this time so we may survive, is the message. The two young people are standing at the edge of the dug-out place by the fallen tree now, their minds held steady by my own will. I reach up
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