It had started out such a great day. Sun shining, the freezing westerly winds had abated, and we looked forward to our hike out to Shelter Hill.
All packed with the required lunch stored in our backpacks we set out to enjoy a rare fine day.
By midday, we had made it to the picnic area and decided to find a spot and gather our breath before undertaking the rigorous trek to the top of the hill.
Refreshed after a languorous lunch, we set off full of expectation at the beauty that we knew was in front of us.
The walking was relatively easy until the rain came. We hadn’t noticed the storm building over the hill, and when it started with a vengeance, we looked for shelter.
A dark patch of the bush was the best place we could find. Under some dense foliage, we found a spot where we would keep dry from the storm.
My companion immediately said she felt uneasy and I thought she meant the storm was a worry to her.
But no she complained the shelter was giving her the creeps. She could feel an uneasiness about it.
I told her it was just because it had grown dark as the storm rained down on us.
Suddenly she sat up and grabbed her backpack to her breast. “Hear that?” she whispered.
“Hear what?” I asked not hearing anything.
“That chopping sound.”
“No, can’t say I have.”
“Michael!” she screamed, “there’s some one here. There’s someone pulling on my back pack.”
By now the darkness had well and truly descended, and her voice was sounding more and more frantic. I moved over near her only to hear her say into my ear, “Cookie Monster!”
I leapt back in terror; she was so good at impersonating things. All I heard was her hysterical laughter at my reaction.
“You have to stop asking Jane* about places to go hiking” I announced in my most indignant voice.
* Jane Dougherty: Her comment I read earlier where I’d seen the same thing: “all I can see is the Cookie Monster in the foliage!”
Written for: Thursday photo prompt: Shelter #writephoto