Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28938497-20150114145218

"Come on, Thomas, you're holing us up!"

My friends had no sympathy for me, even though they knew I was scared of plants. It was an irrational phobia that stemmed from my childhood. When I was five I fell into a hedge and was scratched by the branches so badly I had to go to hospital. The fear had been dulled over the years leading into my adult life, but I was still weary of plants. Even a fern leaf brushing against me made me crawl in my skin.

It was madness, then, joining the guys on a hiking holiday through the Highlands of Scotland, it may seem, but I wanted to prove I could do it, both to them and myself. I wanted to prove I was over my fear enough that I could hike through rhododendrons and gorse bushes and nettles and thistles and all of the other thorny plants that I would have to face like a man.

And here I was now, standing before a lattice of nettle branches that blocked my way onwards, that my friends must have brushed through like it didn't even phase them. It didn't. It shouldn't phase me. I was wearing a thick jacket and gloves. The tiny barbs of these brances couldn't harm me. But it did phase me. I couldn't muster up the courage to proceed.

My friends must have rolled their eyes and carried on, as I could no longer hear their voices. My feelings of wanting to prove myself in a masculine way and reclaim my pride turned to feelings of simply not wanting to be alone in this this green, sunny world of nightmares. M pride wasn't even a factor anymore. I would have yelled for them to come back and help me if they were still in earshot. My next desire was to turn back, but they had the tents, and the money. I had to go forward

I swallowed, and took a deep breath. This is why I came on the holiday, to push past the fears that had haunted me since childhood. I had to grow up. I advanced gingerly into the spiderweb of nettle branches, pushing them out of the way one by one. Everytime I let one go, it sprang back to its former place, and most of the time, this resulted in the brach swiping my jacket, and everytime that happened, I felt like I was going to scream.

One of the larger ones had snagged itself on the seams of my jacket, and I had to turn back to unhook it. I was scared to touch the branch, trying to shuffle myself free, and bat it away with very swift and light taps that did nothing to it. I was starting to panic, and my actions became more erratic.

I noticed another snag as the result of my erratic movements, and this time I screamed out. I was now trapped, thick nets of branches either side of me. I couldn't even go back anymore. I choked back a sob and tried to push forward. A branch caught my face, and I screamed. my right cheek was stinging with raw pain, and I could feel the warmth of tricking blood down my face. I kept trying to push out now, panicked spasms taking the place of calm and calculated movements.

Nettles were wrapping around my arms, tearing through my jacket. I could feel the barbs prick my skin. My struggling just made them tighter. They were digging into my arms, piercing the skin, drawing more blood. I could barely breath. My hart was beating so fast. Tears were streaming down my face. I couldn't even feel the pain of individual areas anymore. My entire body was stinging. I could feel punctures all over my body, blood tricking down every square inch of skin. I didn't want to look down lest I see nothing but red through the haze of salt and water that was obscuring my vision. I had to keep pushing! I had to be free of this!

As if hearing my thoughts, the nettle nightmare suddently gave way, and I crashed to the ground. Without taking a second to rest, I scrambled to my feel and sprinted forwards. My whole body was stinging and aching but I didn't care. I had to be free of here. I had to find my friends.

They were on their way back when I found them. They had heard my scream and were concerned. When they saw me in the state I was in, they'd be even more concerned, but I saw none of the shock and horror I'd have expected, and I looked down at my own body. There was no blood. My jacket was intact, and my arms were fine. Even the stinging was subsiding quickly.

They expressed their concern for me. As far as they knew, I had screamed, and was now looking terrified. Without a word, I led them back to the nettles. I had to show them. I had to explain.

When I reached the spot, there were no nettles there. In fact, there were less plants spilling onto the footpath than most of the trail. There was no trace of the nettles. Had I imagined the wjholew thing? I couldn't have! I felt like such a fool.

That's when one of my friends shouted out to the rest of the group, and pointed to the spot where the nettles had been. He was pointing out a large puddle of blood on the ground. 