Haven't blogged in forever but don't have time now so I'm just going to upload the latest Writing class homework. I'll blog this week...hopefully.
The Life Of
John Garrison
A.K.A. John Johnston, Jeremiah Johnson, and “Liver Eating Johnson”
Seeking refuge in the woods, away from the horrors of war and his past, Jeremiah knew that life here would be hard but he didn’t realize the first winter would be this hard. Jeremiah was cold. His feet were wet and frozen, he was afraid to move his toes for fear they would break like ice sickles. His legs were so cold that they were numb, as were his hands and fingers. He had frost on is eyelashes, on his beard and mustache. His jaw was sore from clenching his shivering teeth for so long. His hunger was gnawing a hole through to his backside, his last meal being two days ago. He’d already missed a rabbit, two squirrels and this morning’s fishing didn’t pan out either. In this time of desperation, he hoped his aim was true. If he missed the porcupine, he’d just have to go hungry until tomorrow. The thought of a warm fire was welcoming but the thought of only warm water for supper was not.
Taking a deep breath, Jeremiah blew into his cupped hands repeatedly, yet silently, to warm them with the hopes of gaining more movement from his fingers. Trying to consciously relax the shivers out of his muscles, he carefully aimed his barrel at the porcupine. Squeezing slowly, a loud bang and a puff of smoke ensued! Did he hit it? Standing up, his cold and creaking muscles and joints seemed louder than walking on dry twigs; he started to walk over to where the porcupine should be laying. So many hopes and prayers were weighing heavily on this moment.
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