S
Stewart Bloor
Guest
As he made his way through the undergrowth, danger was never far away. Even though he had been this way many times before, always the sense of what may happen, threw him into fear, as terror entered his soul.
Today was no exception. Each step he made, the sweat built up on his brow. Would his foot disturb a poisonous snake, as it lay hidden in the grass? Would his prescence alert one of the many man eating animals that lurked in this part of the world?
Already he had had several encounters with the most dangerous snakes known to man. Bitten fourteen times previously, with hospital out of the question, he administered an old remedy that he had picked up many years ago, when he lived amongst the most remote tribe on the face of the earth.
Yes, his days spent in the inhospitable desert terrain of Africa had been useful. But that was then, this was now.
Suddenly his eagle eye alerted him to movement to his left. Without any warning, a man eating spider lunged through the air. With just a split mega second of life left in his body, he managed to knock the attacker to the ground, before he despatched it with his staff.
That was close, and he was now grateful for those seven years that he had spent in the Amazon jungle amongst tribes unknown to the rest of the world.
As he continued his way through the long grass, suddenly he sensed a climatic change, that only he would be able to detect. This was an intuiton learnt from the peoples that he had lived with in the Arctic circle. That was many years ago, but he had never forgotten those lessons.
His fears were confirmed when suddenly the sky went black, and rain was unleashed from the heavens that no man had ever witnessed before.
Lightning began to shatter the darkness of the sky. He had lost count of the times that he had been hit in the past. Twelve, maybe thirteen. But each time he had survived. Partly because, through skills learnt from the years he had lived in the Andes, he knew how to duck and dive when lightning was about to hit him.
Then, as he parted the next clump of grass, his adventure was over, at least for this time.
Stepping out he was now at his favourite peg on the River Trent. Other anglers were nearby. 'Look, it's Ron Clay' one of them called out. 'Hi Ron' shouted another. 'Why don't you come down the path like the rest of us?'
Today was no exception. Each step he made, the sweat built up on his brow. Would his foot disturb a poisonous snake, as it lay hidden in the grass? Would his prescence alert one of the many man eating animals that lurked in this part of the world?
Already he had had several encounters with the most dangerous snakes known to man. Bitten fourteen times previously, with hospital out of the question, he administered an old remedy that he had picked up many years ago, when he lived amongst the most remote tribe on the face of the earth.
Yes, his days spent in the inhospitable desert terrain of Africa had been useful. But that was then, this was now.
Suddenly his eagle eye alerted him to movement to his left. Without any warning, a man eating spider lunged through the air. With just a split mega second of life left in his body, he managed to knock the attacker to the ground, before he despatched it with his staff.
That was close, and he was now grateful for those seven years that he had spent in the Amazon jungle amongst tribes unknown to the rest of the world.
As he continued his way through the long grass, suddenly he sensed a climatic change, that only he would be able to detect. This was an intuiton learnt from the peoples that he had lived with in the Arctic circle. That was many years ago, but he had never forgotten those lessons.
His fears were confirmed when suddenly the sky went black, and rain was unleashed from the heavens that no man had ever witnessed before.
Lightning began to shatter the darkness of the sky. He had lost count of the times that he had been hit in the past. Twelve, maybe thirteen. But each time he had survived. Partly because, through skills learnt from the years he had lived in the Andes, he knew how to duck and dive when lightning was about to hit him.
Then, as he parted the next clump of grass, his adventure was over, at least for this time.
Stepping out he was now at his favourite peg on the River Trent. Other anglers were nearby. 'Look, it's Ron Clay' one of them called out. 'Hi Ron' shouted another. 'Why don't you come down the path like the rest of us?'
