Finding Steve
It was Steve, it had to be Steve and I screamed out his name. Putu looked at me in fear and put his finger over his lips. I knew I made a mistake. I yelled out Steve’s name as I took giant steps over the tall vegetation and ran toward the body lying on the rock structure.
Once I got closer, I knew it was Steve. There he lay, his clothes ripped to shreds, his body covered in blood and bruises.
Yes, it was Steve, it was him and I felt like screaming but had to hold it in. My friend Steve had been beaten and bruised to the point where I could barely recognize him. He had large round bruises on his from the entities that had hit him and pounded him repeatedly. His skin was black and blue, bruised and beaten. I couldn’t see much more because as I turned the loud trembling and deep base sound of the trumpet shook my body.
Putu was blowing his horn as I heard rustling in the forest. I ran as fast as I could towards Putu, and we headed back behind the waterfall. It was them, the entities were back, this time they were just dark puffs of clouds.
No warning no white cotton candy clouds this time…
This was anger. These things were pissed off and angry. Putu Indicated that we needed to go. I didn’t want to leave. My friend was a sacrifice of some sort. I couldn’t even tell if Steve was alive or indeed dead. I wrecked the opportunity by screaming.
Putu leads the way back once more. I kept on repeating Steve’s name, he patted me on the shoulder gently and all I could make out of it was, patience, patience from his gentle but firm taps. He gave me an assuring look, meaning we would be back but for now, we had no choice because I screwed up.
We will have to come back. I will need to be quiet. I was happy, but happy was not the word. I was not happy to have found Steve. I was glad to have found him but not happy. I was distraught actually at the state and in the position I had found Steve. He seemed to have been a sacrifice.
Zsolt Zsemba 