@darkesthourstarters Where: Retreat campground When: 6:20am Sunday morning
He quickly padded out of the cabin, still in his boxer shorts and an unzipped hoodie, as he slipped quietly out the door, careful not to wake the other people sleeping in the cabin. The images of a funeral were still fresh in his head, flashes of them coming to his mind each time he closed his eyes. Swiping a still mostly full bottle of alcohol someone had abandoned the night before by the campfire, Lucian made his way to the waters edge where the canoes had been pushed off from a couple of days before. Flopping down to the ground, he could feel the water lap gently at the tips of his toes as he unscrewed the cap and took a long swig of the amber liquid, a welcome burn touching his throat. He could still see it, somber faces, dark suits, flowers. He could feel the tension, the sorrow around him for something that hadn’t happened yet. Objectively he knew the future could change, he had based his whole life around the idea that he could change his own, but this felt close, too close for comfort, and he had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t change. Looking out over the water he was a little unnerved by not seeing a sunrise peeking above the horizon and the fog that settled on the campsite was more than a little ominous. Taking another drink, he heard something behind him, taking the bottle from his lips he turned his head slightly to the side to look back at the intruder to his pity party, a laughable attempt at charm on his face, unable to hide how weighted he was feeling. “Isn’t it a little early to be up?”