Was it gonna rain?
Oddly enough that was the thought looming in her mind. The blue skies that were above moments ago were now gone. Replaced with a bleak gray overcast. Sad, congested clouds looming overhead.
She’d forgotten to check the weather report before she ran out that morning. It was something her husband had often nagged her for. She never planned ahead.
“Que sera sera” she said in a hoarse voice.
That was her response.
Then he’d laugh at the careless attitude he’d come to love, and he’d pull her house keys she almost left without from his pocket. Then he’d kiss her on the forehead, and tell her he loved her, and to have a good day.
Would he ever kiss her on the forehead again?
She risked another glance down, angling her head up from the hard ground of the forest.
She spied it then.
The grotesque angle at which her ankle rested, and the white bone peeking out from between the two-steel claws.
She’d panicked at first. The blood, the pain, the shock of it all. She tried to call for help but there was no service this deep in the woods. Then she pulled and pried at the bear trap. She’d even gotten it half open, but her hands, slick with blood, lost grip and snapped back closed. Crunching bone, severing tendons, and causing enough blood loss and pain to render her unconscious.
When she awoke, she’d screamed. Hollered herself hoarse, hoping someone, anyone would hear. Until she had no voice left.
Until she was forced to face the reality of the situation.
She was about four miles into the woods. She hadn’t been paying attention. She’d lost herself to the music, and as a result, she was two miles away from the closest road and seven miles away from any hope of civilization. The final most daunting realization was the fact that no one knew where she was.
There was no reason to have hope.
A droplet of water landed on her forehead. She looked up at the sky once more, and for what could to be the first and last time she watched the skies open up as the heavens seemed to weep.
Whatever will be, will be.
