Written by Dean Horton
Chapter 4 ‘The Visit’
Samson packed his rucksack with previsions and then once it was loaded he stashed it under his bed out of the way of prying eyes. His mind went through the items he had packed; a packet of biscuits and some crisps, his water bottle and a can of cola, 2 plastic bin bags (to sit on), matches, penknife and his new survival book. Standing in his bedroom doorway he looked over to the chair, his dark green hiking trousers were folded on the chair along with his fleece jacket, under the chair were his hiking boots good we’re all set for later!’ He nodded to himself, his mind was going through the list again when suddenly he had a thought torch….you’ll need a torch, to read your book he darted over to the draw next to his bed and opening it he pulled out his torch then pulling the pack from under his bed he popped the torch into one of the outside pockets. The pack was again stashed under the bed before he made his way back to the open doorway, Samson rubbed his hands together; if they knew his plan he would be in deep trouble but why should they know I’ll be back before they even realise I’ve been gone!
That evening was quiet as the family sat around the outside table; again the family had eaten barbecue outdoors. But now as the sun dropped over the tip of the slope it had suddenly gone much cooler, eventually they made their way indoors where they all settled down on the leather sofa and chairs in front of the now glowing fire which Stanley had lit earlier. Stanley had been filling the family in on the developments on the model shop which he owned. The shop had previously belonged to Stanley’s Father and now a local money man was trying to buy out all the stores around the shopping mall so he could turn them into some sort of entertainment complex.
‘So like I said there is no way I’m selling out; that shop stays in our family that’s if you two want the business when you’re older; if you don’t then we can sell; but only then, not now, not because they want to buy it, we sell it when we want, not when they want!’ He picked up his glass of wine and downed the contents before he re-filled ‘no they’re not going to turf me out of that place; or any of the others if I can help it especially not with their scare tactics, that doesn’t wash with me!’
Dianne looked concerned ‘I think you should just be careful, you never know?’
Samson looked over to his father ‘what do you mean scare tactics Dad?’
Dianne realised suddenly that her children were in the room and the last thing she wanted was to frighten her children. ‘He doesn’t mean anything by it dear’ Dianne interrupted the conversation giving Stanley a sideways glance that told him to shut up!
‘It’s nothing son’ Stanley turned to look out the window, his cheek bones were tense as he sighed deeply.
* * * * *
The cabin was well lit up as the three men approached through the forest, stopping just inside the underbrush border which two metres later opened out onto the cabins lawns. Cowboy pulled out his night vision goggles and surveyed the land around the cabin; nodding to himself ‘its clear Boss!’
The Mexican stared at the cabin ‘the bedrooms are on the other side?’ he whispered; his voice seeming to carry no accent.
‘Yes Boss the middle room is the empty one; like I said there are two ways in; the front door there’ he pointed ‘which opens on to the hallway then around that side there’ he pointed again ‘there are French doors that open into the living room!’
‘Which is the girl’s bedroom’ Johnson asked; his usual booming voice was now replaced with a quiet and clearly intrigued whisper.
Cowboy turned to face the Mexican, his expression deadly serious ‘you said I could have the girl Boss?’
The Mexican turned his baseball cap around so the peak was now at the back of his head ‘you both get the girl but you get to go first’ he pointed to Cowboy ‘you can make the hole bigger for him!’ He smiled to no-one in particular as he stared at the waiting cabin.
Cowboy licked his lips ‘how do we go about it?’
The Mexican pointed to the front door ‘you two go in through that way, knock the door, I’ll go around to the French doors. Once they answer the door to you I’ll put the French doors through and then its party time, we go about our work’ the scar which ran down from his eye was darker, his hand moved up to his throat as he felt his neck and the scar which ran around his throat ‘time to go boys; get this out of the way then we get paid!’ each one of them knew that none of them really did it for the money. Sometimes in life there were more important things to them than money and tonight…..what they were about to do would go towards keeping their pact! The money was just an added bonus, the rewards were all in the physical mind.
* * * * *
Samson and Candice had both gone to bed early; Candice had hit the pillow and fell to sleep almost instantly while in his own room Samson sat on the end of his bed changing into his combats. He pulled them up and fastened the buttons on the fly, tying the belt around his waist he slipped into his fleece jacket; last but not least he slipped into his brown hiking boots one foot at a time, left foot first he secured the laces through the hook loops and pulled them tight. Samson had heard his parents retire to their bedroom earlier; he had given them enough time to fall into sleep, the cabin was now in silence as he continued with his plan what an adventure!
The moonlight shone in through his window, illuminating the room around him as he walked over to the bed and crouching down he withdrew his small rucksack from underneath the bed frame. He smiled to himself with excitement as he made his way over to the window where he quietly opened it; pushing it upwards on its sliders, leaving a gap wide enough for him to climb out! Turning around he smiled at the shape of his bed; having stuffed some clothes under the sheets it looked like he was fast asleep under the covers, should his parents glance inside if they got up for the toilet! Samson silently lowered his rucksack onto the planks; then on nimble legs he climbed out into the night, sliding the window shut behind him he breathed in the night air, the cool night air.
Samson stood motionless on the planks outside his window, something felt strange about the area, the environment had an uneasy feel to it; everything looked the same but there was something different…..something he could not explain, sort of like there was a “presence” he swallowed nervously. He had an anxious feeling, his body was suddenly hot and not from the heat of the night This doesn’t feel right he turned and began to open the window again; his heart was beating faster something’s wrong? I’m going back inside the strange feeling that he had, was growing stronger! The window was now open again as Samson lifted up his rucksack, he was just about to drop it inside the bedroom when he heard a knock at the front door; Samson stood motionless waiting, listening; the front door to the cabin was several metres away from where he now stood. If he walked five metres to the corner and turned he would be looking at the visitors should I go and look? NO the voice inside his head warned! He looked back into his room and saw the hallway light come on under the crack on his own bedroom door, then the shadow of legs as one of his parents passed his room, suddenly there was a loud crash from around the other side of the cabin what was that? He could hear shouts from the hallway; then a commotion inside the cabin? Samson was now caught in two minds did he go back inside or wait out here until he knew what was going on? There were screams now that was Mom he swallowed, then another scream Candice he swallowed hard again as he heard his father shout something? Straight after his fathers shout Samson heard a cracking sound. Samson did not know what to do, he just stood frozen to the spot listening to the shouts and screams coming from inside he made out the shadows of several pairs of legs as they passed by his bedroom door ‘what do I do’ he whispered don’t go back inside; whatever you do don’t go back inside!
* * * * *
Stanley had heard the knock on the door ‘who the hell can that be, it must be after midnight!’
Dianne was putting on her robe as she followed her husband out of the bedroom door, she stood in the hallway watching him walk down the hall to the front door ‘be careful Stanley’ she called, a slight tremor to her voice.
The door opposite Dianne opened and Candice stood in the doorway ‘what’s going on Mom is someone at the door’ she whispered.
Stanley had reached his arm out to the handle and was just turning the handle when a thought hit him ‘you should get the rifle!’ It was too late the door flew into him knocking him backwards several feet. His eyes flew to the open doorway as he saw the two figures that entered the cabin.
Dianne saw the door smack into Stanley she saw the two men as Stanley staggered backwards, one black and one white ‘Candice run’ she reached out and grabbing Candice’s arm she virtually dragged her daughter down the hallway and into the living area ‘quick Candice’.
‘Mom, what about Dad?’
Dianne turned to face Candice ‘we have to get………’ There was a loud crash in front of them as the French doors crashed open, both Dianne and Candice turned to face the doors and there in front of them stood a man!
He wore only jeans and a red baseball cap turned to face peak backwards, a scar ran down his face and another around his neck, his whole chest was covered in scars and tattoos, his eyes black pools of tar stared at them blankly. He smiled at them ‘going somewhere nice ladies’ he shook his head and pulled the knife from around his back then holding it in the air before his face he moved it in time with his head ‘tut, tut, tut……..we’ve not even had time to play’ another smile splayed across his face.
Stanley was dragged panting into the room by the large coloured man, Johnson, with the white man, cowboy following behind ‘what’s going on’ Stanley pleaded ‘what do you want from us?’
‘Why, we want to play’ the Mexican laughed.
Cowboy looked over at Candice, his eyes made out her muscled legs, her short nightie stopping halfway up her thigh ‘Jesus Christ you’re beautiful’ his eyes bore into her.
Candice heard his words and turned to see the white guy looking at her, she felt her eyes welling with tears ‘please let us go!’
In two steps Cowboy grabbed her arm and dragged her with him into the nearest bedroom ‘come on little cutie, let me show you some love!’
Johnson grabbed Stanley tight around the neck and pulled him along as he followed Cowboy into the room ‘hey there Cowboy where you going……you forgot the fucking audience, hahahaha’ he boomed. Without any hesitation he shoved Stanley into a chair and withdrawing a rope he tied him securely to the back of the chair frame.
Cowboy had thrown Candice onto the bed, her legs immediately swept up into a defensive, submissive foetal position ‘please……..no’ she sobbed.
‘That’s it little girl, you beg me for it’ his hand stroked her hair moving down as it traced the contour of her body ‘do you know how hard you’re making me’ he whispered.
Candice was trembling ‘please…….please leave me alone’ a quiver in her voice, she swallowed.
The Mexican pulled Dianne in to the room by her hair and threw her onto the bed ‘you…….you little bitch are going to scream while I fuck you senseless; you’re gonna scream and he is gonna watch it all.’ He knelt over Dianne and ran the knife along her face mimicking his own scars, he dug the knife in a little hard and the tip produced blood.
Dianne screamed ‘noooooo please don’t hurt us, we’ll give you money, anything you want.
‘Hahahaha……anything we fuckin want, you hear that boss’ Johnson boomed from his position standing in the open doorway.
Cowboy turned Candice over so she was now on her back, he grabbed her panties and forcefully ripped them off, red marks showed on her legs, he let out a gasp as he took in her pubic mound ‘my God……..I’ve dreamt about you’ he was undoing his pants pulling them down.
Candice looked down between his legs, instantly knowing his intentions, she felt sick, and she wanted to disappear, to curl up and find that it was just a nightmare!
* * * * *
Samson stood frozen to the spot for minutes listening to the commotion from inside, his mind prayed that it would all stop…all the screaming and shouting that he could hear from inside. Move…you have to move he threw the rucksack onto his back and made his way around to the front door of the cabin. When he got around to the front of the cabin the front door was shut; he walked silently across the planks listening to the commotion inside the cabin; his footsteps were slow and cautious as he stepped over the planks which covered the porch floor until finally he reached the door. His movement was wary as his head came toward the glass window at the side of the door; shouts could be heard from inside, shouts and screams. After what seemed like hours but in reality were only minutes he peered through the glass window and looked into the cabin hallway that stretched out beyond him!
Samson could not believe what he was witnessing; his own Mother and Sister were being raped! His Father sat, arms helplessly bound behind him, strapped to a chair. His Father was being forced to watch the vile acts being committed on his family! Samson could make out his Fathers pained face as tears of anguish and dread rolled from his Fathers eyes; his Father watched helpless, unable to aid his wife and child! Bile rose in Samson’s throat as he fought back the urge to vomit. Samson wanted to help them, to pull them all to safety, but there was nothing he could do; as it stood the attackers did not know he was there; if they knew he was there they would have been looking for him! Where’s the rifle? I have to get inside to the rifle; I have to help them somehow? Then reality hit him; it was on the wardrobe in the bedroom; the bedroom where the horrors were now taking place. Dread filled his entire body; he was unable to do anything to help his family; they were alone, all he could do was watch, watch them helplessly. I could knock the door and run, it might divert their attention and give Dad time to get the rifle….DAD IS TIED UP YOU IDIOT……they’re alone and you’re too scared anyhow! He felt weak with nervousness as he strained against the window trying to make out the faces of the three attackers but it was useless, he was useless, he could not do anything to help! Samson wanted it all to end, to shout and run, tears welled up deep inside him as he stared through the small side window; the large coloured man who stood in the bedroom doorway was blocking most of his sight as Samson strained harder against the window, trying desperately to make out the faces of the attackers!
Suddenly the coloured man turned his head; in that instant Samson and the large coloured man stared eye to eye; there eyes locked deeply onto one another, Samson unable to break the contact. The man’s face was deformed, his features moving sort of bubbling around his face; then they began to fall back into place, one by one the bubbles and bumps disappeared until the man’s face became normal again! The man said something? Samson saw the words escape from his mouth “boss; we got a visitor” Samson swallowed hard oh no they’ve seen me! The man on the bed the one on top of his Mother, the one who was topless with the baseball cap turned backwards, turned to face the door; his face too was contorted; making different shapes; Samson saw the scars and tattoo’s all over his chest and back; deep scars, deep and red. The third man had also turned, his naked torso also tattooed with hundreds of drawings that Samson could not make out. As the third man moved to get from the bed his knife sliced easily through Candice’s throat as she lay naked, her legs were spread apart with blood trickling along her thighs as it pooled on the white bed sheets between her legs!
Samson wanted to scream these aren’t men, they’re animals, devil’s his brain telling him things as he watched his Sister struggling for breath, her last breaths as the life slowly disappeared from her eyes. Everything was happening in slow motion; one of the men who had been on Candice was moving toward the door pulling on his shirt. The man pulled the shirt on with purpose in his movements, now he was at the door where the coloured man still stood motionless as he stared hard at Samson. His Mother crawled helpless to Candice’s dead body as the man in the baseball cap pulled a pistol from his belt he aimed it at Samson’s Mother and shot; The shot was quiet; the gun had a silencer! The bullet hit her in the back of the skull; now the man turned and spoke to Samson’s Father “Mr Calcone sends his regards” there was a second quiet shot; now the two men were coming out of the bedroom door, down the corridor! Down the corridor after ME Samson swallowed, a nervous sound; his brain was slow as he watched the men move along the hallway!
RUN Samson stared in disbelief RUN! RUN; you’ve got to RU…………N Samson had turned and with four long strides he leapt over the railing onto the grass and was now sprinting toward the tree-line. They would be out any second now and they would be coming after him; fear was flowing through his veins as he sprinted harder and harder, faster and faster. The small rucksack on his back bounced higher and higher with every stride; hitting his neck then his lower back, repeating the attack on his body with every leap and step but Samson ignored the discomfort and ran! His legs were pumping like pistons as he moved along the ground; he ran for his life you have to get away! The front door of the cabin flew open; then footsteps!
He heard loud footsteps running along the boards, then another set; until one by one they landed on the grass; following in his path; they were chasing him; Samson could hear their steps pounding behind. I won’t be able to get away; they’re devils he ran harder, away from them, sprinting through the trees and bushes as branches scraped along his face. He could feel several cuts along his cheeks; but that did not stop him as he continued running through the dark forest that was slowly swallowing him, eating him, smothering him, slowing him; the forest was slowing his pace oh God please help me; I have to get away!
Branches could be heard snapping under foot some distance behind; he wanted to look around but knew he could not take the chance it was hard enough running through the dark as it was; without looking round and running backwards. Another snap and crack as they closed the gap; there was a voice from behind a loud southern voice ‘we’re gonna get ya boy; I hope you’re ready for what we’ve got in store for ya!’
Samson swallowed hard, the feeling of bile was deep within his throat as he continued, fear kept him moving, kept him running for his life although he had no idea in which direction he was heading; or how far he had now gone think; which way did you go when you ran from the cabin? Slowly it started to register he had turned and ran straight from the corner point of the log cabin; he was running toward the moon, he had been here before; with his Father they had walked for miles along this very route. There’s a lake! If I keep going I come to a small lake; but before that there’s a…………………! Samson was falling; or rather rolling down the bank which led to the side of the small lake. He had lost his stride as soon as he unknowingly hit the slope and was now a falling ball until he landed at the foot of the hill!
The footsteps were some way behind and he could not believe how quick he had covered the distance from the cabin to the lake; his ears strained to hear how far behind him his pursuers were. At last he had a little hope from the sounds of the breaking twigs and branches it was clear they were still in the forest as Samson rose unsteadily to his feet what do I do? Swim or run? Slowly he began to skirt around the lake, hearing the footsteps as they now approached the brow of the hill. He needed to hide, to do something, to get away; his eyes searched around him; suddenly they happened upon a small burrow on the edge of the lake. Before he could even think his mind was made up that’s where I’m hiding he decided; his thoughts were that he would wedge himself inside just under the log which rested on top. Before he crawled inside he picked up a large rock and threw it as far into the lake as possible. As soon as the rock left his hand Samson was on the floor backing into the burrow clutching the rucksack tightly against his chest. The rock landed with a loud splash just as the two pursuers reached the brow of the hill, Samson had squeezed into his hiding place just in time; he heard them coming quickly down the slope. The footsteps came louder and closer as they arrived at the edge of the lake some seven metres from where Samson was now holed out!
Samson’s heart was pounding against his chest; his lungs fought for breath; but he could not afford to breath instead he lay silent and still, trying to control his inner self. His eyes closed tight as he wished his breathing to become under control, to not give him away; he wished that he could just float up into the clouds away from this nightmare. Voices he listened as they made their way to the waters edge; he heard the deep voice with the southern accent ‘sounds like he went in the water’ all around them was now silent ‘little prick’s probably paddling out there now watching us, if these fuckin clouds hadn’t come we’d see the little fucker?’
‘Did you bring the night goggles?’ this voice was quieter almost English in its accent ‘the boss is going to be pissed’ he sighed nervously.
‘Boss…………… its Johnson the boy’s in the lake somewhere; do you want us to go in after him?’ there was silence again as the coloured man awaited the response ‘ok Boss?’
‘What did he say?’ The English accent asked.
‘He wants us back at the cabin to finish off; then we go after the boy!’
‘How did he sound?’
‘The usual; you know how he is?’
The voices began to disappear up the bank until eventually the silence of the night returned; the only sound was the water as it lapped against the shore. Samson lay in the burrow listening; breathing. The air was refreshing as he breathed it in; the smell from the burrow was earthy and damp but Samson lay quietly as his ears heard every sound. After several minutes waiting and listening Samson made the decision to leave the burrow I’ve got to get away from here he crawled out and dusted himself down; throwing the small rucksack onto his back again, he thread his arms through the straps. The clouds had begun to disperse slowly causing the moonlight to break through in patches lighting up the lake and its banks. His nerves were now under control again as he mentally went through his options; he was thirsty and hot; Samson crouched down at the waters edge and cupping his hands he splashed water against his face; it cooled him as it ran down moistening his clothes around his neck. A trickle coursed down his spine until it reached his pant line where it soaked into the elastic band on his pants; it did not bother him one bit, Samson was hot and it felt good to feel something cold and besides he knew that once he started on his trek it would just blend in with the sweat!
* * * * *
Johnson and Cowboy reached the cabin to find the Mexican waiting on the porch; his face bloodied; his eyes cold and black. The cabin was lit up behind him; blood trails covered the floor; there were drawings on the walls all made out of blood; pentagrams, Baphomet (the sign of the Devil), Udjat (the all seeing eye of Lucifer) there were writings in Latin and other ancient text; prayers and curses of the dark one!
‘Boss; is everything done here?’ The large coloured man boomed.
The Mexican looked at him and nodded, his eyes had now taken on a red colour as they adjusted to the dark outside, the scar down his face prominent in the moonlight. Behind him in the cabin the bedroom door was open; the two bodies of the women were nailed to the wall over the bed; each one in the shape of an upside down crucifix. The man was on the bed; his arms and legs spread apart; his insides draped all around him; The Mexican spoke, his voice barely a whisper ‘any more Fuck-ups and you’ll both wish you were in there with them’ he motioned to the cabin behind him!
* * * * *
‘They’ll be back shortly’ the sound of his own trembling voice scared him further, he had heard their words they were going to come looking for him; his thoughts returned to what he had witnessed; his family murdered no not murdered; butchered. Tears began to flow from his eyes; burning his skin as they pooled on his lids I’ve got to get away from here! Samson sat with his head in his hands before eventually rising to his feet, he then began walking. Slowly he skirted along the edge of the lake until he had reached the far bank; his progress was slow as the moonlight faded in and out between the clouds causing him to trip several times. Once he was at the far side of the lake he turned to look behind; he could just make out the hill he had descended earlier, his heart was pleased it was quite a distance. But even so he knew these men, if that was what they were would soon cover that distance, he had heard them say that they had night goggles? If ever they used them I’ll be done for there was no-way he could hide from those glasses, they picked up body heat and with how hot he felt they’ll pick me up like a fireball they would kill him just like they had to his Mother and Father and Candice poor Candice. He knew what they had done; he was fourteen years old and all the kids that age knew about things like that; his poor Sister had to endure that kind of physical and mental torture perhaps she’s better off, perhaps they were all better off? Perhaps I’d be better off if they just caught me and killed me? ‘Don’t think like that Samson, you have to keep going, don’t give up……..keep going for Candice!’
A quick glance behind told him that the lake was now long gone, the clouds in the sky had now dispersed as the moonlight lit up his current path, illuminating the trees and bushes making shadows that followed his every move. Every shadow was someone watching him, following him. Samson was afraid, his mind constantly playing tricks, goading him, fooling him; luring him into a false sense of security; the shapes and shadows scared him. He shook his head stop it, you have to focus, concentrate on what you’re doing; YOU DON’T WANT TO GET CAUGHT, keep moving and stop thinking like that!
‘How far have I walked?’ he whispered, he had travelled aimlessly just listening to the sounds of the night, to the sounds of the forest, all sorts of wildlife big and small busying themselves in their own little worlds. Forty metres away an owl hooted; Samson stopped and peered through the darkness trying to locate its call; it was no good, wherever it was; it was well camouflaged; after all it was a night hunter, Samson knew how the mice and rats felt for he too was being hunted or was he perhaps they haven’t come after me? How far had he travelled with no sign of his pursuers three, four miles at a guess ‘whatever the distance it isn’t far enough; I need more distance, more miles’ he spoke quietly to the night around him, the sound of his own voice reassuring him a little.
The part of the forest he now walked was quite sparse making his progress even quicker; a breeze blew through the trees causing him to shiver slightly; he zipped his fleece up higher around his neck. The night was cold yet he was wet through with sweat; the moon now shone brightly overhead piercing the trees and bushes as he moved. Samson glanced up, the moon was clear and full, and he could make out the craters which dotted here and there along its surface. Many times when they were at home in Kansas his Father would take him into the garden, where they would set up the large telescope and they would both take it in turns to look through its eyepiece, staring into space. There was something almost majestic about looking upon the stars, almost eternal, his Father would talk to him quietly and soothingly showing him and teaching him about the many constellations. Andromeda, Hydrus, Leo minor, Hercules, Perseus, Pegasus, Samson found it all fascinating. His Father taught him that each star had a name Capella, Electra, Elnath, Hadar, Jabbah and Polaris the list contained thousands, probably millions, each of them also having a unique number. Every year as technology became greater new stars were discovered; but only the large telescopes that Nasa and the likes possessed could pick up these distant discoveries. Their little telescope, the one they used in the back garden could only see certain parts of the universe but even so they had managed to draw their own star maps throughout the year as the different constellations came into their view. They were good times probably Samson’s most favourite times of all; happy moments shared with his Father, in the piece and tranquillity of their own back garden.
A sadness filled him as he realised that he would never experience those nights again; never be able to sit in their back garden and look upon the night sky together; his Father was gone along with his Mother and Sister; they were all gone, Samson was alone! That thought scared him senseless, he had no idea what to do or where to go; he just knew he had to keep moving. Maybe he would happen upon another cabin or even a road, or a town that would be better, a town with a Police station he prayed silently ‘please God let me find a Police station!’
A strange feeling came over him again like the one he had had earlier outside his bedroom at the cabin, Samson swallowed nervously looking behind him. Over the brow of the hill he saw beams of light as they swept through the forest; Samson gulped hard as he checked quickly into the tree-line his pace suddenly quickening again. Samson knew he had to keep moving; to get as much distance between him and his pursuers as possible “staying ahead of the game” was what his PE teacher, Mr Davies would call it, but now the game was life and death, his own life and death. If the game caught up with him he was dead pure and simple. Mr Davies or “Ears” as they called him behind his back, not because he had big ears but because he had the knack to hear what the kids were whispering, he had the respect of the boys throughout the school as he had instilled a winning mentality in the football and baseball teams. Right now Samson needed that winning mentality just keep moving and do as Mr Davies says, stay ahead of the damn game son.
Samson carried on with his quick pace always conscious not to make any sound, one loud noise and they would have him. He walked quickly and cautiously although he had no idea where he was going his intention was to keep on with his present course; to follow the moon and its path. Wherever it led him he would follow and then in the day If I make it that far he decided that once in daylight he would follow the line of the sun ‘I’ve got to make it; I’ve got to reach help’ he whispered as he moved quickly along the sparse path. As if he did not have enough things to think about Samson had to negotiate the potholes that appeared here and there along his route, he was determined not to fall or trip no injuries, you don’t need any injuries, just get there safely…….WHERE……to safety, where do you think!
Having walked a good distance since seeing the torchlights he was feeling slightly more comfortable when a twig snapped several metres away! Samson stopped dead in his tracks; his breathing stopped, his heart had stopped too; he heard a scurrying sound ‘phewww’ it’s only an animal; a small animal, probably a rat or a mouse he continued on his journey; his heart still beating out of his chest. Although it was dark the moonlight lit up the area around him and Samson realised he had walked this way with his Father the previous day or was it today everything was happening so quickly now. He knew that further along the path there was the ravine; he had no idea how he would get down ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it; just keep walking’ he whispered as he thought about the drop further along the path!