One-Shots: 9

There were some things simply unimaginable to him.  Pain being one of them.  And as he lay there under the open sky he had to wonder just how he got to where he came to be.  Well, fighting off against some sort of monstrous beings with nothing but the skin on his back and the wit of his words was one thing.  Wondering why the world was still spinning and why he couldn’t get up was another.

There was a knot of frustration and pain digging deep into the small of his back.  Most of that had to be from one stone or another.  It had to be.  But try as he might he couldn’t roll over or stand up or do anything with his legs.  That also might have been because he couldn’t feel them because of the forty foot trunk that lay over his shattered knee caps.

Autumn leaves drifted down to land on him.  They fell upon his arms and face and chest.  He blew out as much as he could and pushed the ones off his face.  It hurt to do that.  It hurt to take in deep breaths or to do much more than drift in and out of consciousness.

Just where had that bastard run off to?  Dropping a freakin’ tree on him… that was a new one, even for him.  He had to get up, he had to move.  He had to do something, something more than laying there in pain and wondering just when he would be buried with the fallen leaves.

It was like Mother Nature was trying to bury him with the rest of year’s green and good.  Leave him beneath the dead and decaying plant matter so that he may too nourish the earth with his broken body.

That wasn’t what he wanted, not in the slightest.  He had to get out of there.  He was being smothered.  He couldn’t breathe.  he couldn’t breathe.  he couldn’t breathe…

He woke up in a rush, the blanket tugging from his face.  Over his legs lay a pile of fur and bodies.  His Newfoundland, Goliath, lay on his back over his knees as a pair of six year olds wrestled with the large dog.  His eldest daughter lay next to the dog, resting on his thighs as she stared at her younger brother and sister.

No wonder he couldn’t move his legs.  All in all it was close to three hundred pounds of weight on him.  As his legs were gently pressed into the mattress and jostled from the play fighting, he brought a hand to his eyes and closed them.

Bloody nightmares.