A Flaming Arrow

People posted this on Twitter sometimes—go ahead just get off your ass and write, Henry felt the tweet was for others not him, he was bored shitless by the limited scope and hackneyed writing styles on Twitter, spy novels, romance, bloodsuckers and the rest. 

Henry would head upstate to the Catskills for some fresh air. He would travel light, some hiking boots, a pair of Converts, a Boy Scout poncho, a sweatshirt, a few pairs of chinos, a canteen full of whiskey, an ounce of cocaine and some downers. 

It was a short bus ride to the Catskills, he took a few downs and slept most the way, waking up to the sounds of the bus driver’s voice saying—

Ok folks, last stop in New York State, New Baltimore, unless you're going to Vermont, get out. 

It was 6PM and cool out— the end of October, fall was in the air.  Henry needed a drink so he goes to the first bar he sees in town, a place set behind a bookstore in an alleyway called the Back Bar. They had an old iron stove that was burning wood inside which gave the place a cozy feeling. The bar looked like it hadn’t changed in 40 years. 

Henry sits at the bar and orders a double shot, wondering why he was there? The last thing he wanted to do was to get lost in the woods, eaten by bears or snake bitten. He would sit in Back Bar and get really loaded and then look for a place to crash at bar time. 

Feeling distressed but hopeful, he feels the bar light up, magic fills the room—a tall and lovely woman wearing a white leather biker jacket and a flower dress, with beads laced into her long and tangled purple hair comes into Back Bar. She goes to the bar, standing she orders a beer. 

She looks over at Henry and says,

Howdy traveler, you looked lost city boy. 

Henry wasn’t a lumberjack, he wasn’t at home in the woods, he was born in Queens. 

She then says,

My name is Bluebell, I live in a cabin not far up Poet’s Ledge Trail.

He says,

My name is Henry babe, I came here to hike and camp out.  

Henry lying, he didn’t want to hike or camp out, he was afraid to be in the forest alone, oddly though he could walk the streets of NYC at night fearlessly. 

The two drink a few shots and then go into the toilet, they lock the door behind them and snort cocaine. 

It is close to bar time and Bluebell says, 

Let's go to my cabin in the woods and fuck baby. 

An offer Henry can't refuse, he grabs his duffle bag and pays the tab as they leave Back Bar. The two walk the New Baltimore streets a few blocks and exit at Poet’s Ledge Trail which goes into the Catskill Forest Preserve. 

They walk and walk, Henry feeling mousy, the woods were dark with no lights and you could hear raucous cackling hoots, wolfs or wild predatory birds he thought.

Bluebell assuring him as they walk, 

Take it easy Henry, the critters out there are as scared of you as you are of them. 

They exit Poet’s Ledge Trail and follow another trail for a short way that looks as though it was recently hacked open by machete. At the end of the trail is Bluebell’s cabin, the wooden door is unlocked, the two go inside. You could see a loft above with a bed on it from the ground floor. 

Bluebell opens a trap door that is on the floor under the loft and cranks up a Honda generator. The place lights up, she even has wifi. 

She goes to a computer on a wooden desk and plays The Rolling Stones, Exile on Main Street on YouTube, the sound is full tilt coming through large speakers.

She then lights a fire with newspaper and cut wood in the stone fireplace.  

They sit down on an old brown leather sofa, Bluebell brings a bottle of Jack Daniels and some cups on a beer tray to a coffee table. She pours some drinks, Henry lays some lines of cocaine on the beer tray, then Bluebell takes off her clothes saying, 

I like to walk naked in the woods, I'm a nudist, do you like my body? 

She has a beautiful body, Rubenesque and sculpted, great natural tits— 38 cups maybe, thumb-sized nipples surrounded by brownish and rounded areola.

Henry follows suit and strips down too.

Bluebell says to Henry,

You have a lovely cock, I’m Jewish sweets and I like big dicks with no foreskin. 

She gets up off the sofa and kneels in front of Henry, pulling his legs apart and going down on him, he gets a hard-on, she licks up and down his cock as though it was candy, then grabbing his balls and deep throating him, his balls floating free, tea bag style. 

Henry’s manhood is hard now, she says let's go to bed, the two climb a ladder to the loft floor and get in bed, she pushes the ladder down off the loft to the ground flloor. They lay on a large mattress covered with a quilt. 

Henry has blue balls as Bluebell gets on top of him, riding him pony style, yelping to high heaven like a rodeo girl with one hand on Henry’s chest as she waves the other hand in the air. 

Bluebell was beyond horny, she was a nympho and wanted to ball non-stop all night—a few hours into the sex Henry says,

Look, let's rest I’m not a sex machine, I’m mortal, just flesh and blood.

She gets pissed off at Henry saying,

I only came 3 times, I haven’t squirt yet. 

Henry says, 

Wait until the morning, we can ball all day  Bluebell.

She says, 

Fuck you I need cock now,

Bluebell goes ballistic and begins screaming, 

Fuck me, fuck me you faggot!

Holding Henry’s head in both hands she begins to bang it violently against the window at the back end of the loft. His head breaks the window, shattering it, luckily his head isn't cut bad, but he was bled all over Bluebell's quilt. 

Henry going into fight or flight mode, grabbing Bluebell’s arms at the elbows with his hands, putting pressure on and pushing them together, forcing her to release her hands from his head. Then with all he had left he thrusts the palm of his right hand forward into Bluebell’s nose, breaking her nose. He then hangs from the floor of the loft by his arms and drops to the ground floor, landing on his feet. 

Henry grabs his duffle bag and runs out of the cabin naked, it was dawn.  He heads to Poet’s Ledge Trail, looking back he sees Bluebell running with her white leather coat on, naked underneath. 

She is carrying a bow and arrow, she lights an arrow wrapped in gauze and dipped in petrol. She raises it towards the sky, pulls the string back tight and shoots the flaming arrow towards Henry. The arrow flies in arched trajectory and lands ahead of him 10 meters or so. He runs past it and can see that it has landed in some dry loose bush and is setting the area a flame. 

He reaches Poet’s Ledge Trail and goes south to New Baltimore, he can smell burning leaves and wood, smoke fills the air. Henry quickly dresses, the nut case Bluebell wasn't in sight, maybe she was caught in the flames. Henry wasn't going back to save her, he would save himself.

Not a good Catholic choice, Henry was atheist.  

Once in New Baltimore he notices a red alarm box on a street corner and pulls the switch, alerting the fire department. Then heading to the bus station and sleeping on a wooden bench for a few hours until the bus to Queens arrives at 11AM. 

Sitting on the bus, a lady sitting behind him notices the caked blood on his head and says, 

I’m an EMS nurse let me take a look at your head, she dabs his head with cotton balls soaked with alcohol, saying to Henry,

What happened? 

He says, 

Oh, I was in the forest camping at night and had to fight off a pack of wolfs barehanded. 

She says,

Oh, like Jack London in the Call of the Wild, thrilling  you better get your head looked at when you get back to Queens, get some rabies shots to be on the safe side.   

Henry thanks the nurse, knowing his head wounds were inflected by a dangerously rabid nymphomaniac. 

The next day he sees a story on the internet about a forest fire in New Baltimore, New York that was extinguished before it could spread, noting as well that there were no injuries. 

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