A. L. Kaplan

Tag: picnic

  • PARADISE

    Krka National Park Kendall Bullen
    Photo courtesy of Kendall Bullen

    “How long are you going to keep us here?” asked Bridget, through chattering teeth.

    Fear of hypothermia was overriding the threat of the stranger’s rifle. It was hard to enjoy nature’s beauty while freezing your naked bum off. She could barely feel her legs in the frigid water. Jason’s arms were tightly wrapped around his chest. Behind them crystal clear water cascaded over steep rocks. Their well-worn surface turned the waterfall into a musical lullaby. Both she and Jason had fallen sound asleep after their long hike. Then the stranger showed up. Now the sound knelled like a death sentence.

    “Y’all just enjoy your little bath,” said the stranger. He lounged in the sun on their blanket eating fried chicken. Empty containers lay scattered about; all licked clean by their captor. “I haven’t eaten this well since I killed my ex.”

    Bridget’s heart jumped. This was supposed to be paradise, not a nightmare. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt us.”

    “Don’t you worry, darling.” He bit into a lemon tart and moaned with pleasure. “These are delicious. Sure you won’t consider staying?”

    She glanced at Jason and saw the panic in his eyes. If he thought for a second that she’d consider the offer, he didn’t know her at all. Being one with nature didn’t include becoming part of it.

    Bridget turned away. “No thanks.”

    The stranger smiled and put a lighter on the blanket. “Too bad. Y’all get a fire going now.”

    With one last wink, he vanished into the forest.

  • The Bandit

    The smell of roasted meat drifts toward me from the picnic table. Hunger gnaws at my stomach. How long has it been since I last ate? Days? Weeks? My tongue hangs from my muzzle, but I only slink further under the bush and tremble. I stole food from a table once. Master was so angry that my hip still hurts when I run. People are mean.  They bring pain, even when you try to please. Master left me tied to a tree far from home. Today is the first I have seen people since then.

    The meat smells so wonderful I can’t resist. Heart pounding with fear I dash to the table when no one looks. Hot juices sear my mouth as I snatch a brat and scurry back. I practically swallow it whole, and then shake in remembered punishment.

    My appetite is only piqued, but the man returns to the table with more meat, calling his family. One of the younglings points my way. I flatten myself to the ground and lay my ears back. Did he see me? The man walks in my direction. I am too afraid to move. Halfway from my hiding place he stops and places something on the ground.

    The family has finished eating and put away leftovers before I dare investigate. On a plate, neatly cut, is a mound of meat. I lick the plate clean and wonder; maybe some people are nice after all.