One Word Erased Every Pain, Clark Mahoney [book club reads .TXT] 📗

run,” she whispered.
Sitting on the ground, feet splayed in front of her, hands at her side, she couldn’t see the mountain lion. But, she could hear its heavy breathing. It was so close. She squinted her eyes, hoping to find its ears in the darkness, to see exactly where it was. But, no. It was too dark.
She knew that humans were not the normal food for mountain lions. They stalked and killed deer, or fox, or raccoons, or rabbits, or squirrels. But those teeth were made for grasping, for puncturing, for slicing. And, a hungry cat might hunt bigger prey when the normal prey wasn’t around. Or, if it was just hungry and you happened to be sitting there in front of it on the ground. She was injured, bleeding, and had surely told the cat this already. It had great eyesight, and had a nose designed for finding wounded or dying critters.
If this predator attacked her, then she was sure to die. She had no weapons. And it had plenty, 30 sharp teeth, and lots of long, curving claws. She had to be the aggressor. That was the only way to respond to a mountain lion attack. She stood up, lifted her hands over her head so as to appear larger than normal. The cat, with its impressive vision would see this, and pause. She talked loudly, and firmly to the cat, “I am NOT prey. You don’t want to eat me. Go away.” She repeated this several times, waving her arms, and puffing up her chest with air. Then, she growled at the cat, baring her little girl teeth. She felt silly, but knew that this is what her dad had told her to do if she ever found herself confronted by an angry or hungry mountain lion.
Then, she heard another sound, the rustle of bushes, something gliding past them. It grew more and more distant, as the mountain lion decided that Elisa was not easy prey and wandered off to find something less dangerous to eat. She lowered her arms, and breathed a long sigh, knowing that she had survived. She survived. No one had to come save her, no knight in shining armor, no galloping prince, no hero. She did it herself, just a little girl chasing away an adult mountain lion. She smiled, proud of herself for remaining calm, proud of herself for thinking, and acting, and turned to walk down the path towards home.
After awhile, she noticed that the canopy of trees was gone above her. She could now see much of the sky. Her feet rested on sand, and she knew that she was in the flat area at the beginning of the trail where the water had formed a wide creek bed, often a pond, during the rainy season. She was near home.
Through the sand she marched, her shoeless foot hurting with each step, causing her to limp. “Keep going,” she told herself. “You are almost home.”
She climbed up out of the sandy creek bed, and back onto the trail. To her left was the fence that ran along the water spillway, with homes behind a large wall. Up to her right were homes and sloping back yards. Lights were on as strangers tapped on computer keyboards, or watched “Dancing with the Stars,” or talked on the cell phones, or read about dragons or wizards or pirates or damsels in distress. She smiled as she realized that she had been a damsel in distress. But, very different from so many of those books she’d read, she did not wait for a prince to come save her. Nope. She had saved herself. She was missing a shoe, and her helmet, and her bike. She had bumps all over her, and scratches, and cuts. But, she was alive. She was alive.
Nearing the end of the trail, where she had begun this journey so many hours ago, she stopped walking for a moment to think. Standing near the trailhead, she wondered what she would say to her father, how she would explain what had happened, what he might feel about her riding the trail alone. Would she get in trouble? Probably. He would scold her for being out after dark, or for losing her bike, or for biking the trail alone.
That was when she saw a dark figure turn the corner and enter the trail. Was this the mountain lion? Or a coyote? Or a bear? Had she made it this far only to be attacked so close to home?
It was a man, and he had a flashlight in his hand. Wait, there were two flashlights, swinging back and forth. A beam went across her body, then swung back, stopping at her feet, then working its way up her legs to her hips, and then to her stomach, before stopping on her face. For a moment, she was blinded, as the brightness overwhelmed her pupils, sending white ghosts of pain into her head. And then, darkness, as one flashlight fell to the ground, turning itself off, and the person who had once held it cried out, “Elisa?”
She ran the last few steps and threw herself into his arms. She’d hungered for this moment while crawling through thorns and stinging nettle, while trudging through a soggy creek and tripping on vines, and while tumbling down the dusty trail, step after painful step. One word erased every pain, soothed every moment of fear, and calmed her tortured heart.
“Dad.”
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Publication Date: 12-17-2010

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