The fire popped and crackled. My mind wandered into nothing. Thinking everything. The fire kept persisting. Insisting. My eyes not resisting. I drifted into dream as the fire dwindled down faster than a September Song. Too late I did awake. I emerged from the hideout door met by unsearchable dark. My eyes would certainly adjust. No moon or stars and hours past dusk. I stepped into the woods with one less sense to trust. There was nothing in sight. For each branch I moved, another struck my face. I walked slowly inhaling fright. Knowing pitch black had taken over this place. I reached the meadow that I knew would be. I thought this meadow would make it easy on me. Now there was not a branch to snap or a stone to feel beneath. The emptiness was formidable and left me defenseless. Now my senses, down to three. I lurched forward with my arms hesitantly outward. A large figure with its scythe in the air catches the light. The wind kicks up and it lets out a snort. An eight point buck with its antlers in height. The creature dashes left and I sprint straight for home. I reach the backyard, humming Tom Jones.
Yeah, its good to touch the green, green grass of home!
Based on a true experience. Have you ever been caught in pitch black?
Photo from flickr user kirsuittaessant.