Alex Whitaker

Freelance Copywriter

CITY: Atlanta
EMAIL: alexwhitakercopy@gmail.com​

"Campfire"

The big man had enjoyed the time with his friends, drinking beer and telling stories next to the campfire, but he was tired now, and it was time for bed.  He stumbled over to his hammock, spaced perfectly between two, full-grown pines.  He slowly eased himself into the green, canvas material, being careful not to put too much weight on one end.  After a near-perfect execution, he gave a sigh of relief and let the cool wind coming off the lake blow across his face and slowly sway his bedding in the Summer air.  He thought it was interesting that he was about fall asleep in the sky.

As he drifted off he recalled a joke that had sent him into a laughing fit earlier.  He laughed again loudly.  After regaining his composure, he glanced across the water and spotted a set of yellow-white eyes staring back at him.  He heard a low, rumbling growl and then a splash followed by the labored breathing of an animal swimming towards him. 

“Oh, shit!”, he gasped.  “Oh, shit.  Oh, shit.  Oh, shit.  Oh, shit.”

The big man’s heart was in his throat, beating faster and faster.  He quickly jumped out of his hammock, surprised that he stuck the landing with no trouble.  He didn’t know how late it was or how much time had passed, but he thought the other men had gone to their tents, and went to warn them.  They weren’t there.

He raced back to the fire, now smoldering.  A man with thick, black hair covering his arms and face snored quietly, resting at the base of a nearby tree.  Another man, with long legs and a hatchet near his feet, slept across from the hairy man beneath a large oak.  Out of breath from all the excitement the big man began to stammer.  The hairy man stirred, but remained asleep.  The big man’s stammer turned into a shout, “Hey!  Wake up!  Bear!  Bear in the wa- Bear in the water!”

At this, the hairy man jumped into action, grabbed a large rock and sprinted towards the water’s edge, the big man not far behind.  The tall man with the hatchet, upon hearing all the commotion now joined the others on the shoreline.  The hairy man gave a shout of warning at the bear as it closed in on the three, paddling faster now.  The bear was close enough now that the wind coming off the water carried a musky, earthy smell.  It smelled like blood.  It smelled like death.   

With a shout of frustration and fear, the hairy man heaved the large rock in his hand at the bear, striking it in the face.  Slowly, the bear began to sink, and gurgled its last breath.  The three men roared in delight.  They gave their war-cry.  They gave the bear its due.  As the men began to realize how easily it could have gone the other way, their shouts turned into laughter.  Soon they were slapping each other on the back and re-telling the tale as they walked back to camp.  

Though relieved that the ordeal was over, the big man thought it best not to sleep in the hammock again.  He retreated to the back seat of his car.  As he recalled the events of the night, he began to drift off, letting heavy eyelids fall.

Wood shavings and small splints were placed neatly atop the few remaining embers of the previous night’s fire.  A steady, billowing breath encouraged a small flame to flicker and creep up the teepee built kindling.  Its pace was slow at first.  But as its encouragement continued, it gained confidence and began to grow in size and speed, and soon it no longer needed the breath of another to survive.  Once the flame had licked up all that it could, it collapsed the structure that had given it life.  A bed of coals remained in its place.  Over the bed a small, log cabin was constructed to keep the fire going.  

Next to a little pile of sticks and fresh-cut kindling kneeled the tall man, using his hatchet to make the pile bigger.  He motioned for the hairy man to get some food from a nearby cooler.  Soon after there was a faint whiff of bacon and wood smoke on the crisp, morning air.  

Long legs and a small back seat had made for a hard night’s rest, and the big man was still tired.  The subtle crack… szzzz of an egg was heard.  “Breakfast!” thought the big man.

He felt a sudden jolt as the car he slept in rocked.  He put on his glasses and saw two of the whitest bare-asses pressed up against his window, followed by the laughter of their owners.  It wasn’t too long after that that he crawled out of his tiny car, a car that most said was much too small for him, and passed by the tall man and the hairy man, still chuckling to themselves.  One of his fingers still stuck to the other, a remnant of s’more from the previous night.  He walked down to the shore of the lake and washed it off in the cold water.  He then peed on a tree, marking his territory.  

The big man was looking at the lake with new eyes, pensive and searching eyes.  He simply could not believe the event he had witnessed just hours ago.  He stared back out at the water, wondering how far down the bear could have sunk.  Briefly, he imagined himself swimming out to see if it was still down there, or if maybe it had been eaten by something.  He imagined the bear coming back to life and dragging him down into the depths.  He thought that would be very unwise.  Anyway, he had had enough adventure for one weekend.

The smells of breakfast and smoke called him back to the fire.  And there they sat, the big man with the hairy man and the tall man, eating breakfast and forgetting their troubles.  Though still tired from the lack of sleep, the big man was glad to be alive in the woods that morning, sitting with his friends.  He wondered if life could always be that simple, that enjoyable, though deep down he knew it was only a small collection of moments that would soon be a distant memory.  At this realization, he turned off his brain and tuned in to the next joke being told.  Laughter resumed around the fire.