by Thomas Emmon Pisano

Created on: June 21, 2009

The Wild Dogs in the Night

It was pitch dark, the moon had not risen. There was a great thrashing about in the trees in the forest ahead. I was having trouble walking and finding the road because of the darkness. I almost fell into a ditch along the road several times. But I managed to keep my footing on this desolate road. The growling and the crashing around ahead had me scared and apprehensive. I sat down in the darkness and waited, thinking.

I was off on another adventure, I did that, took my self on adventures, it was my way. I had a passion for seeing the world, this time it was New Mexico, I was walking cross-country to Taos through the mountains. Later the trip would, I hoped, lead me through the high bad lands to the little desert town I sought.

There I would rest, refuel and find some way of making money and restocking my resources. However, for now I was on a survival trip, braving the night in the wild country here in these mountains.

My map had earlier told me to take this un-incorporated road through this mountain pass. It was to be an easier route for walking than going around the mountains. Therefore, I took the chance on this passage.

The darkness was foreboding, but I couldn't sit here in the middle of this gravel road, I needed to get going or be here until the moon rose or worse, until sunrise.

The noise was still loud. What could make such a racket, I wondered, a bear, people? There was the distinct sound of growling I could hear it, really.

I picked up my backpack and walking stick and continued walking to the near-by hollow, which was even darker than the open road. It was cool and damp and there was still that noise.

People earlier were talking. I didn't pay any attention to the things I heard the locals say, but still, it was something to consider especially now.

I was in a diner; the men at the counter were talking about a Bigfoot, which was seen running across a road near here, no that's impossible; surely, that is just a myth or something worse a hoax. Still, I had my imagination and was scared as I reached the place in the road adjacent to the awful sounds, then the trashing and growling stopped and was silent. It was dead silent, not a sound, a breath of wind, a twig snapping, nothing at all to let me know that life was about. Quiet, quiet, and more quiet, even the crickets were oddly dormant. I could only hear my heart beat, making that weird sound in my throat. I looked up; the stars were raining down upon me. Every

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