Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24523744-20150630052640

      I grew up in a small mountain town in Colorado. When I was younger, my friends and I liked to go into the woods around our town and have 'Wars', a game we played consisting of two teams, usually the good guys and the bad guys.

      The game was a lot like capture the flag, but with added rules. For example, if someone steals the flag and then drops it, they have to take it back and sit at the enemy base for thirty seconds, then go back to their base and try again. We found out, through practice, that a good way to make someone drop the flag is to scare them.

      I remember one time, my friend Conner was running with the flag and I jumped out of a bush with an air horn. Those were the days.

      One day, the last day I ever played War, something happened, something I'll never forget. I was on the bad guy team. Being that I was big for my age, I was usually in charge of getting the flag, while some of the smaller, quicker kids were in charge of guarding the flag. We played best three of five rounds.

      After the first three rounds, the score was two: good guys, one: bad guys. I huddled my team up and we discussed a strategy of a group rushing the base head on while I snuck around the back and took the flag. It was a strategy that had worked well in the past.

      I sent my distraction platoon on their way and began sneaking around through the woods. The woods behind each base were thicker than the rest of the area we played in, making them ideal for our spots to put flags because they were hard to get through. My plan was to use this to my advantage.

      As I snuck through the brush, excited about my plan, I heard a crunch. I turned around to see if I'd been followed or spotted by the enemy, but I was all alone. I guessed that I'd heard an echo of my own step or perhaps an animal.

      I continued on my trek and reached the back of the good guys' base. I saw that my distraction was working well, so I snuck in and stole the flag, then ran back out into the thicket.

      About ten seconds in, I tripped. I gripped tight, making sure that the flag never left my hands. As I got up, I saw someone. He was a tall, dirty looking man. At first, I thought that this was a scare tactic.

      My friend Kyle, who'd been on the good guy team today, had told me stories about his uncle Jimmy. He said that Jimmy was cool, and had even given him a sip of his beer last Thanksgiving. I thought that he might be helping Kyle by dressing up and acting scary.

      That wasn't the case. He walked toward me. As he moved, I was his tattered jacket flapping in the wind, revealing a green shirt with red splatters on it at points. He wore a deep grin on his face. I could see that he was missing a few teeth, and the ones he had were yellow and rotted.

      "Hey kid, want some candy?" He beckoned to me in a deep, gravelly voice.

      "No thanks mister, I'm in the middle of a game," I responded, understanding at my age not to trust strangers.

      "Are ya sure? It's really good." He pulled a single Hershey’s Kiss out of his pocket.

      "I said no."

      "But why?"

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "My mom told me not to talk to strangers."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "But I'm not scary," He said in a somewhat pouty voice.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "Ya-huh."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "You little bastard! Come here!" He suddenly broke out in to a sprint. I began running as fast as I could back towards the main clearing. I heard the man trip and yell out in pain. I didn't turn to look. I kept running until I made it back to my base.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "Hey Grant. Did ya get the flag?" My friend Fred asked. I didn't say anything. I just looked at him with my red, out-of-breath face.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "Jeez man, what happened?" Another kid questioned. I took a second to catch my breath before I answered. When I could finally form words, they came out all jumbled.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "Man! Woods! Candy" I managed out.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "Well, where's the flag?" Fred glared at me. "We're still down by a point. We have to go find it."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      "No! He might still be out there!" I protested. Fred, always having been the competitive type, didn't listen to me but, instead marched out into the thicket. Not long later, I heard him scream. Our entire team rushed to his aid, but none of us could find him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      All we were able to find was the flag, which we took back. I demanded that we end the game and get an adult. Some of the other kids agreed with me, but most thought that we were just playing a joke on them and continued the game.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      Two days later, Fred was on the news. His body was found in a creek, not half a mile from the clearing where we were playing. There were no suspects. From that day, my mother forbade me from playing War. I wasn't too eager to go back myself.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      I became a bit of a social recluse after that. I didn't go out much if I could help it. I never really attempted to make contact with any of my old friends. I didn't really have friend again until high school.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">      Years went past and the police finally caught the guy that they thought was responsible. He was convicted of the murder of Fred and five other children. When I saw his picture on the news, it looked nothing like the man I'd seen in those woods all of those years ago. <ac_metadata title="Capture the Flag(Looking for review)"> </ac_metadata>