Kat Out of the Bag Chapter Eight By Steve Rudd

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

As I was led back towards the village, my mind frantically raced with thoughts and feelings, snapshots of murky memories and monstrous fears of what might now transpire. A foreigner amongst strangers, I guess I was more vulnerable than even I dared to admit, but just because I couldn't speak their language didn't mean that I didn't understand.

In the dark I couldn't look into the eyes of the men that led the way through the valley. We neither rushed nor dawdled. We merely walked, and the men - like me - made a point of admiring the natural splendour that surreally surrounded us. Even though it could not be seen, it could be felt, smelt and appreciated. If anything, the darkness of night somehow puts everything into perfect perspective, and until I was led away by these three strangers I had never really thought that my past life experiences could be of use to the Nepalese.

On we walked, and on they talked, though the way that the men spoke amongst themselves seemed to be spiced with a conspiratorial air of intrigue. I had no notion of time because it wasn't mine. It's sad when life is forced to revolve around time when it should really be the other way around. Still, I sensed that daybreak was near as the ground beneath my feet gradually warmed and the air took on a more refreshing taste.

Hungry as I was, I gobbled up the fresh air, gulping breaths like a fish being hung out to dry. To die. The phantom snow on show looked more like clouds. Realising that snow was underfoot and thinking that such snow was really cloud, I began to fantasise and convince myself that I was walking on air, in dire need of water. If I was walking on air then perhaps I had ascended to heaven where hunger and thirst were surely non-existents desires. Snow can be artistically heaped up to resemble snowmen, so who - or what - were these people up in front of me? Cloud men?

Was I being led to God? And if I was, then what would I say? Could it already be Judgement Day? If only there was a question to every answer, for as I was led back towards the village, my mind frantically raced but never made any ground on the assumption that I was to be killed without being thrilled: another white man lost amongst the chilling snows of the unknown.

But why? Maybe just because...

© Steve Rudd 2005

Continued on www.thisisUll.com...... Chapter 9

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