Handmaid's Tale: A Short Story

I couldn’t evade this pit in the stomach. It was churning and twisting into a million knots. I had never quite enjoyed the forest. And by that I mean I absolutely hated it. Although, I do have to admit that the accretion of nature was admirable and held a certain beauty unlike any other. But you hear stories of horrible things happening out here. And I’m not talking about all the fantasy books about trolls hiding within bushes in the woods, I am referring to the true stories, the paranormal ones. To make it even more ominous, basically every horror or thriller movie involves tragic murders or psychotic people running around with chainsaws, in the forest or some sort of nature setting. Such as a lone cabin buried deep in the woods secluded from society.

As you could probably tell, my brother and I were quite different. Him being extravagantly gregarious and me being introverted and unmistakably lazy. I prefer curling up in bed with a good book. My brother and I trudged up the steep, undulating trail. He was yearning to take me to this cave he had discovered with his hiking group. He lacked the connoisseur characteristic as he always chose the most laborious hikes. I firmly believed the best hikes were non-existent ones. This was even more wearisome than any of the others hikes he's dragged me on. This being because our destination was on the tip top of a colossal mountain making the air meager and difficult to breathe. Being not even halfway up the mountain, my fatigue was incipient and I sincerely didn’t think I could take much more. I looked up ahead at my brother, who was far in front of me and ebullient, flying up the hill as if it was effortless. He abruptly stopped where he was. Not moving, not making a single sound. He looked back at me with an expression of sheer terror and