Let Me Tell You a Story About a Tent in the Woods

The tent is cold. I am alone. I hate it here. If only I could go home.

Except home is no more. What didn’t burn got looted. Whom wasn’t killed were rounded up. Taken to camps to be exterminated or worked to death.

I escaped, into the woods. Deep in the greenbelt with a tent and blanket looted from a mall’s garbage during a riot. Slipping in while the garbage security were busy shooting and tear-gassing the cold, naked, and hungry.

In the deep I set up my tent. In the day I forage in bins left outside the homes of the privileged ones - the ones with homes and families, allowed to live as humans. Locked fearing animals will make a mess of their mess. At night I wrap myself in the blanket and anything else I can find of warmth.

This is Canada. The year stretched out. The days shrank, the nights grew. The land became bathed in eternal night. The wood grew cold. Streams froze and snow fell.

I hear monsters, roaring and howling at night. Within my tent I can hear them breaking twigs, shaking trees, and sifting through the plastic remnants of my forage.

When winter settled, Grim came to visit. In the dark I saw the glowing eyes of a cougar outlining the large gait of a bear. Every night sense, Grim simply stared at me. Through dying embers of a fire and only those eyes for light, I could see them lick their lips and paws. Fangs hung from a snouted maw as Grim suckled the claws on their large feet clean.

Why are they here? What do they want? Why every night?

In the day, I shivered as I foraged. Ran as a privileged one shot at me for stealing what they didn’t want anymore. Dressed in warmth with murder in his eyes the privileged one defended his refuse from the creatures of the woods like me.

On the solstice, the privileged ones lit their homes and ate too much. I had the best meal in a long time consisting of giblets, potato skins, and half-rotting vegetable roasted on an open fire fuelled by twigs and plastic. When I finished eating, Grim showed up. In the dark I saw their glowing eyes, mirrors reflecting my image back. Of a pale, creepy, stranger - leathery skin covered in white and black blotches three-times too big, eyes glossed over, borrowing into Grim.

“What do you want?” I asked them.

“Arho?” Grim cocked their head.

“Why are you watching me?”

“Oh?” Grim just stared.

“Are you hungry? Waiting for me to die so you may eat me?”

The beast took a step towards me, walking upon four paws. Their grey fur highlighted by the moon.

“Am I on your territory? I don’t mean to be, I’m just homeless.”

Grim took another step.

I step towards them. “Grim... am I to die today? Will you kill me?”

“Arho?”

I got to my knees. “Whatever your reasons are, I’m sure it has nothing to do with the colour of my skin, or my faith, or who I choose to love. It isn’t because you hate my world view, or believe my value to be nothing.

“I know its not personal.”

Grim looked up to the sky and howled. Moments later, glowing eyes in the dark surrounded me. I closed my eyes as clawed hands gripped me and carried me off. They were warm, their purrs soothing. I had no fear.

The tent was cold. I was alone. I hated it there. Now I’m home.

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Written as part of the Let Me Tell You a Story series curated by Lillian Wong. More flash can be found here: https://letmetellthisstory.substack.com/