Exceptional A Hunting Trip Gone Wrong A Father's Love by prettybluebirds This Sentence Starts The Story contest entry Artwork by helvi2 at FanArtReview.com

"You need to calm down," I tell my son Tom. "I know it's a bad situation, but if we calm down and think, maybe we can find a way out of here." I put my arm around my son's trembling shoulders and pull him close to me. Tom is my whole world. And yes, we are indeed in a bit of a mess. We are on a long-awaited hunting trip to Arkansas and in unfamiliar territory. Neither one of us spotted the old abandoned well this morning. It was pretty much overgrown with vines and grass, which had a lot to do with missing the hazard. On top of that, a big buck about thirty feet away was holding our attention, and we weren't exactly watching where we put our feet. So, here we are, at the bottom of a thirty-foot well. At least neither one of us is seriously injured, just some scrapes and bruises. The old well is dry, too, which is a blessing. Dust motes float in the air. I feel around in my coat pocket until I find the small flashlight I carry for emergencies or if we get caught in the woods after dark. I spot an old rusty ladder hanging not quite three-quarters of the way down the moss-covered walls as I use the light to check things out. Unfortunately, as I continue to scan the area, I spot something else; not-so-good--rattlesnakes. They must be Arkansas Timber Rattlesnakes, and there appear to be a dozen or so. Most of them are quiet now, but one has its ugly snout raised and is flicking its tongue in our direction, a snake's way of scenting danger or prey. At least we got lucky and didn't land on top of that pile of reptiles. The weather has been getting colder, and snakes hibernate in cool weather. It's not cold enough so they are completely immobilized, which is unfortunate for us. "Dad, what are we going to do?" Tom whispers. "If we move, they might attack. Can we shoot them?" "No, son, we can't shoot high-powered rifles in this small area. The bullets could ricochet off the stones and end up killing us instead of the snakes. Besides, we can only shoot one or two at a time, and there must be a dozen of the ugly bastards in here." I continue shining the light around, looking for a possible solution to get us out of here. Things don't look good. Then I notice a cement ledge that goes all the way around the bottom of the well something-- like I used to see in old cement silos on farms. Why there is one in the bottom of a well, I have no idea, but it just might be our way out. If we work our way along the ledge, we might be able to get below the ladder without disturbing the snakes. Then I can have Tom stand on my shoulders or my head if necessary. If he can reach the ladder, Tom will climb out and get a rope from our campsite so we can both get out of here. The important thing is not to rile up these miserable vipers. "Okay, Son, easy and slow, one step at a time. We can do it; we have to." We coordinate our steps and ease along the ledge. All at once, an enormous snake curls into striking mode and shakes his rattles with deadly intentions. Tom and I freeze, and after a few minutes, the critter calms down. He never takes his attention off us, though. It takes the better part of an hour to reach the area below the ladder. It's a heart-stopping hour. Take a step, freeze, take another until we finally make it. My legs are shaking, and I can only imagine how Tom is feeling at this point. I hug my son close and whisper, "Are you okay?" "No, I'm so scared; I don't want to leave you here alone either," Tom sobs. "Hey, you're a big man; you can do this. You have to if we want to survive. I'll be fine. If I stay still, the snakes shouldn't bother me. Let's get you up on my shoulders so you can get ahold of the ladder. The sooner you go, the quicker you will get back. It's our only hope, son." I lift Tom carefully until he can climb onto my shoulders and brace against the side of the well. Although we have been as quiet as possible, the alpha snake has his attention fixed on us. At least he's not moving, just letting me know he is aware of us. His tail moves slowly back and forth like a playful kitten getting ready to pounce. "Okay, Dad," Tom says quietly. "I have a hand on the ladder. Give me just a bit of a boost so I can pull myself up." I stretch as far as possible and feel Tom's weight leave my shoulders as he hoists himself onto the ladder. The old rusty ladder groans and I hope it will hold long enough for my son to climb to the top. I'm reasonably sure it wouldn't hold me even if I could jump that high. Besides, I start jumping around and I get a snake bite for sure. "Help him, God," I pray silently. "Whether I get out of here alive or not, I ask you to save my son. Tom is my reason for living; I would willingly die for him." The smell of mold and decay almost gags me. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I see Tom finally drag himself over the rim of the well, then I draw in the air with a gasp. Tom's face appears over the edge, and he gives me a victory sign before disappearing on his journey. I have no idea it will be the last time I see his face. I try to turn to lean against the wall while waiting; this is when I make a fatal mistake. My foot slips off the ledge, and while I manage to keep my balance, a chunk of cement breaks off and clatters across the floor. Before I have time to react, fangs sink into my leg above the top of my boot. That big bastard was waiting for an excuse to attack. I lose my balance, falling on my back as I try to pull the snake off my leg. I can hear the other snakes slithering towards me in the dim light. Recognized Author Notes Just a short story. Not all stories have a happy ending.

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