Read Online Touching Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ben Mikaelsen
Ads: Link
thought drifted about in his head but failed to gain meaning. Blood might look the same, but Peter was a loser and a jerk. Cole dropped his hand to the grass. The bear was a stupid lumbering moron.
Cole’s stomach churned and cramped harder. A sour bile taste stung his throat. He dared not throw up, but he felt the urge coming like a freight train and he couldn’t get off the tracks. Suddenly he convulsed and vomited. Instant pain attacked his chest, and the world swam in circles. Again and again the spasms came, and Cole flopped his head sideways to keep from choking. He tried tostop throwing up, but couldn’t. Black patches danced across his vision, then he lost consciousness.
Hours later, Cole awoke feeling weak and confused. His thoughts drifted above him like restless air moving over the bay. The stink of vomit and the salty smell of rotting seaweed hung in the air, and overhead, a leaf drifted down in slow motion as if arriving from outer space.
Cole forced his head to the side and tried to focus. Vomit covered the ground beside his head. He could see chunks of the fish he had eaten. Beyond, he could see the mouth of the bay where the ocean disappeared into the dull, rain-misted sky.
Cole damned the rocks, the rain, and the endless ocean. What a fool he had been to come here instead of going to jail. At least in jail he would have been in the safety and comfort of a cell. He would have had some control. Here he was powerless, nobody to control, nobody to blame. Every action worked against him and hurt him.
A bitter loneliness swept over Cole as tears clouded his vision. He felt so small here, puked up on a remote forgotten shore and left to die. Was this how the world was going to get rid of him?
CHAPTER 9
A CONSTANT RAIN and shrouded gray sky masked the passing of hours, leaving Cole in a cruel time warp with only one possible end. He tried not to think about the end, but he could not ignore the maddening pain from his wounds.
As gusts of wind drove the chill deeper into his body, rain kept falling, penetrating his will, seeping into his consciousness, and flooding his soul. This rain fully intended to kill.
As Cole weakened, he stared up at the giant spruce tree towering above him. Desperate tears welled up inside and squeezed past his eyelids. The wind gusted harder.
What did it matter anymore if he died? Nobody else cared about him, so why should he care about himself? As Cole’s gaze drifted among the branches of the tree, a small bird’s nest tucked into the fork of two branches caught his attention. The nest rested near the trunk, protectedfrom both the wind and the rain. As Cole watched, a small gray sparrow landed in the nest, twitched about with a flurry of activity, then flew off. Soon it returned again.
Each time the sparrow returned, it carried a bug or a worm in its beak and busied itself over the nest. The visits brought faint chirping sounds. Cole squinted and made out little heads jutting above the nest. This was a mother bird feeding her young. Up there on a branch, barely spitting distance away, little sparrows rested dry and warm, having food brought to them in the comfort of a nest built by their mother.
The sight of the baby birds irritated Cole. Without his injuries, he could easily have crawled up and knocked the nest down. That’s what the stupid birds deserved.
After feeding, the mother flitted to a branch near the nest. She ruffled her wings and chest feathers, keeping an eye on her young. Watching the bird made Cole curse every second of his miserable and haphazard life. If he were the mother bird, he would just leave the babies to fend for themselves. She didn’t owe them anything.
That’s how Cole felt—he didn’t owe anyone anything. Nobody had ever cared for him, so why should he care about anyone else? He wouldn’teven be here on this island, injured, if it weren’t for other people and their lame ideas. Nothing had been his fault. Cole’s bitterness
Cole’s stomach churned and cramped harder. A sour bile taste stung his throat. He dared not throw up, but he felt the urge coming like a freight train and he couldn’t get off the tracks. Suddenly he convulsed and vomited. Instant pain attacked his chest, and the world swam in circles. Again and again the spasms came, and Cole flopped his head sideways to keep from choking. He tried tostop throwing up, but couldn’t. Black patches danced across his vision, then he lost consciousness.
Hours later, Cole awoke feeling weak and confused. His thoughts drifted above him like restless air moving over the bay. The stink of vomit and the salty smell of rotting seaweed hung in the air, and overhead, a leaf drifted down in slow motion as if arriving from outer space.
Cole forced his head to the side and tried to focus. Vomit covered the ground beside his head. He could see chunks of the fish he had eaten. Beyond, he could see the mouth of the bay where the ocean disappeared into the dull, rain-misted sky.
Cole damned the rocks, the rain, and the endless ocean. What a fool he had been to come here instead of going to jail. At least in jail he would have been in the safety and comfort of a cell. He would have had some control. Here he was powerless, nobody to control, nobody to blame. Every action worked against him and hurt him.
A bitter loneliness swept over Cole as tears clouded his vision. He felt so small here, puked up on a remote forgotten shore and left to die. Was this how the world was going to get rid of him?
CHAPTER 9
A CONSTANT RAIN and shrouded gray sky masked the passing of hours, leaving Cole in a cruel time warp with only one possible end. He tried not to think about the end, but he could not ignore the maddening pain from his wounds.
As gusts of wind drove the chill deeper into his body, rain kept falling, penetrating his will, seeping into his consciousness, and flooding his soul. This rain fully intended to kill.
As Cole weakened, he stared up at the giant spruce tree towering above him. Desperate tears welled up inside and squeezed past his eyelids. The wind gusted harder.
What did it matter anymore if he died? Nobody else cared about him, so why should he care about himself? As Cole’s gaze drifted among the branches of the tree, a small bird’s nest tucked into the fork of two branches caught his attention. The nest rested near the trunk, protectedfrom both the wind and the rain. As Cole watched, a small gray sparrow landed in the nest, twitched about with a flurry of activity, then flew off. Soon it returned again.
Each time the sparrow returned, it carried a bug or a worm in its beak and busied itself over the nest. The visits brought faint chirping sounds. Cole squinted and made out little heads jutting above the nest. This was a mother bird feeding her young. Up there on a branch, barely spitting distance away, little sparrows rested dry and warm, having food brought to them in the comfort of a nest built by their mother.
The sight of the baby birds irritated Cole. Without his injuries, he could easily have crawled up and knocked the nest down. That’s what the stupid birds deserved.
After feeding, the mother flitted to a branch near the nest. She ruffled her wings and chest feathers, keeping an eye on her young. Watching the bird made Cole curse every second of his miserable and haphazard life. If he were the mother bird, he would just leave the babies to fend for themselves. She didn’t owe them anything.
That’s how Cole felt—he didn’t owe anyone anything. Nobody had ever cared for him, so why should he care about anyone else? He wouldn’teven be here on this island, injured, if it weren’t for other people and their lame ideas. Nothing had been his fault. Cole’s bitterness
Similar Books
