Goosecreek Chronicle
An eerie, dark forest surrounded us, as we left the security of a paved road and turned onto the rough gravel drive. We were flanked on either side by swampy water. How far the water stretched, I couldn't tell in the darkness, but I had the distinct feeling dark space. Off to the right, I pointed to a small creature. Deer, I thought, but as I opened my mouth to speak the word, it morphed and I saw it was actually an old, broken pine. "What a strange wood," I said. After about a mile, we pulled off to one side and turned off the car. It was pitch-black night, and the moon - "like to a silver bow, new-bent in heaven" - was gone below the horizon. We worked in frustrated silence, pitching the tent, gathering firewood, beating away mosquitos. After a grumpy fireside meal of tofu dogs, we went to bed - Susan and I in one tent, and Benji in another. That night, I law awake listening to the buzzing drone of a thousand mosquitos thirsty for my blood. I awoke just