Jake walked further into the woods pushing aside the branches of the growth that reached out and that hampered his forward movement. He chuckled, and pulled down the cap that covered his ears. He felt like he was a male little Red Riding Hood; and that he was going to be pounced on by a wolf who would rip out his throat with large fangs; “Better to eat you my dear!” But that didn’t happen; it was a fairy tale; and he dropped his hand down to his back pocket to where his cell phone lived.
Jake pushed through the trees; he listened and he was the only one thrashing through the brambles. The leaves were still. He looked back and squinted he could barely see the edge of the pasture. It was almost as if he had stepped into another world. He frowned and backed up a step, his sneaker crunched down on a a dead branch that echoed through the clearing with a snap. It was silent and a bit dark. Yes it was darker, there were shadows lengthening down the old growth.
How could that be? He looked again and 5 feet in front of him was the rusted wheels of the bicycle that he and his brothers had joked about just about 6 months before. Jake moved closer. Yes there was the horn that he sounded that had sent the yearlings running across the field. They had been grounded for that incident because the yearlings had scrambled and one of them broken a leg in the panic. But the bike was rusted now and the horn; it squeaked and a sad sound hissed out; an old worn out copy of itself barely 6 months old. And the trees were old, Jake looked around frowning and he shook his head he didn’t understand.