The wild country took a hold of my spirit. Then it got my mind.
The opposite of a people-person is a nature-hermit.
Used to steep, slippery hills and lone trees, I could no longer breathe in air with a density of consciousness. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t stop myself.
I retreated to a cottage near a crag where Hadrian didn’t dare go. When the city conversations matted in my brain and weighed on my happiness like foliage on a forest floor, I ran for the wilderness, quiet save for the wind. Not even birds sang.
Still, a man has family, and a free stay in a new country attracted them like wolves. When the one pack came, they wanted to see the capital, and the castle, and I thought I could do it one more time.
Inside the high walls, Batman followed me from on high. The pack meandered through the passageways, but made claustrophobic by the cloying history of civilization, I scurried through to a spacious courtyard. I pulled out my phone to listen to my soothing recordings of the wind, and that’s when he shouted down.
“Put that away, please,” he said in gruff tones.
It was the Batman. I had no clue Batman was Scottish.
My ears sang. I scampered up the stairs and caught him unawares. His cape billowing, he flew sideways to the stone floor.
Crack!went the Batman.
In swooped the constabulary, ravens to the carrion. But they didn’t take their fill of the bleeding Batman, they took me.
The guard you pushed might not make it, they told me, as they threw me into walls and into a cell.
I need the wild country back.
From the window at the Centre, I can see the road that will one day take me home, as soon as I escape the pills, the therapy groups, the pleasantries, this disinfected fortress.
I howl at the injustice, and at the trees, and I howl to keep the others away from me.
Simon Pinkerton is just the best guy. He knows exactly when wearing and not wearing pants is appropriate, now, and his apology skills are honed so sharp you could cut yourself on them, but don’t, because that would violate his parole, after the pants incident. He writes novels, short fiction and humor and presses the heart button many times @simonpinkerton