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And the Morning Mists Shall Rise

A sudden movement made Richard quickly snap his head around to the left, but it must have just been the wind moving a branch. Then as he turned back in the direction he was walking his face turned directly into another overhanging branch which promptly shed its load of cold water down the neck of his jacket, making him cry out a mild curse. He had at last decided he was lost. For the past two hours he had been following a continually diminishing trail through the September woods. Early that morning he had left his car parked at a trailhead and started down what more than two hundred years ago had been part of the Wilderness Road, leading pioneers from the east coast into Kentucky. Now it was a hikers' path through National Forest and across the Cumberland Gap. He had planed to spend the night in a small town about a mile off a side road and return tomorrow.

Now he had to admit he was lost. Lost and the sun had set a half hour ago. He hadn't seen a sign of any civilization for the past five hours since he had crossed the last road and now even the trail looked like it hadn't been trod for years. Sometime during the afternoon it had started to rain - a cold, wet rain - and, because only cloudy weather had been predicted, Richard wore only a light nylon jacket. Now he was cold and wet and lost and it was rapidly getting dark. At least the rain had stopped an hour ago, but now a misty fog was beginning to fill every low spot and the sky was still overcast. ...

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stories in "romantic"   |   all stories by "Janet Fremont"