Survival - Narrative

Survival One of my fonder memories of the previous summer was a rather ordinary night. I wouldn't say that it changed my life forever, but regardless, I believe I'll remember it for a lifetime. I am fond of it because it serves as a simple reminder of what to live for: for the flavorful moments of life brought about by the enjoyment and pleasures of shared experience between friends and loved ones. That is what it's all about. We all sat in the small, yet comfortable room together, exchanging stories and laughs. The meager building, only referred to as “the shack”, was pushed into the back corner of my mom's garden, among trees and brush. It had a corrugated, sheet metal roofing that was just starting to hint at its age after some years of weather. The walls had a softer appearance. They were made out of light, sweet-smelling wood that gave the shack its distinct, reminiscent aroma. On the exterior, the walls were painted vibrantly. Bright blue covered the walls that were vertically striped with yellow bars of wood that covered the cracks between the planks. The four square windows were colored a deep crimson, matching the large, windowed door, that covered the center of the front wall. Inside, it was equally as colorful. Multicolored cushions and beanbags lined the walls. There were two simple chairs of metal bars and stretched fabric. Salim and Kyle were sitting in the two chairs. Bernard and Daniel were seated in the bean bags against the back wall. I sat on the flat cushions on the ground. As the time crept further into the night, one suggested we engage in an expedition to play ball at the nearby golf course which was something we seldom did. We grabbed our stuff, put on our shoes, I put out the lights, and we were on our way. I beside my friends, sharing ideas and laughing at each other as we walked along the dimly lit sidewalk, down the steep hill that I lived on. I can scarcely remember giving a thought to the cold, the time, or anything else. I had been enjoying the walk. By the time we reached the foot of the hill, it was already been past ten, and the chill of night was starting to become more noticeable, even through the lingering warmth of the midsummer sun that could still be detected in the air. There was a dense fog mustering over the hills and rising over our heads. The intersection was completely empty. Lights changed for nothing.We crossed the street to the edge of the golf course. The ground in the course was a few feet lower than the street. It was so dark down there. The course itself was enveloped by towering evergreens and immense oaks that stood sentry against any light attempting to slip through. The ground was uneven all over. Silhouettes of grassy hills rolled across the field, with an occasional sand pit suddenly falling between them. The grass was slick, and wet. It was cold too. It smelled like soil after rain, but slightly more chemical. For a while, we played soccer with a rubber ball, using some conveniently rooted trees as improvised goal posts. It was difficult to play on the wet grass with a rubber ball, but no one complained. We all had fun slipping, falling into the wet grass, and chasing the ball when someone kicked it much too forcefully. Once we were satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted, we put down the ball and pondered on what to do next. We came up with a simple game. Two people try to stop three people from reaching the safe spot; a preselected sand pit, near the edge of the course. Arbitrarily, we decided the teams. Salim and Bernard would guard the sand pit vigilantly, as Daniel, Kyle, and I would move away, out of sight, then attempt to infiltrate their base. We walked slowly alongside the trees, staying in the black-on-gray shadows cast by the pale, dim moon. We talked quietly, just loud enough for us to hear one another, but wary of those that could be following in the dark, listening. After a minute of walking, I looked back over my shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the two we left behind, but they had long disappeared from sight. I could not tell how far we had gone. I had no sense of the size of the field in the dark. More minutes passed. I probably had not had an accurate guess. All the time we were walking along the trees, seemingly traveling deeper into silence, where all time and matter meld together. Finally, when we thought ourselves far away enough, we decided to split up onto separate paths to increase our likelihood of success. I went off alone, making my towards the safe zone, as I crept from tree to tree. I was simultaneously attempting to remain undetectable, as well as survey the darkness for any movement. I was generally aware of the location of the companions I had set off with, but could not make them out in the blackness. When I came up to an old oak tree, about halfway to my goal, I saw the figure of someone not far ahead. They were coming towards me. I stayed on the side of the oak, crouching as low to the as ground I could. I saw his path change towards what seemed to be a strangely placed stone wall in the grass. On the opposite side of the wall, I saw Kyle and Daniel, right next to each other, backs to the wall, and seemingly aware of the approaching figure. I lowered myself the rest of the way, and sat quietly in the hard patch of bare earth encircling the trunk of the lonely tree. As the silhouetted man came around one side of the wall, my companions slipped around to the opposite side. This repeated a few times, quite comically, yet intense, with each time more tense than the last. Finally the silhouette caught sight of them, and three figures simultaneously broke into a run. This is my chance, I thought. I was closer than anyone to the safe zone and I was filling with adrenaline. Before I allowed myself a second thought, I stood up and spun around the tree, breaking into a quick sprint. Each step the Earth seemed to fall beneath me. The ground was routinely a few feet lower than expected, causing me to run awkwardly down the incline and stumble often, yet still with great speed. I slipped on the grass hard. I was thrown on my back and my head, and I was sliding down the incline fast for a couple seconds before pushing myself up and trying to stay afoot. I continued my charge. I could hardly see the ground in front of me, but I was still running hard and fast. Only a few more seconds, I thought. With great determination, I pushed myself forward a few more strides before a face appeared before me. It was the face of my friend Bernard, strangely visible against the darkness, though only a foot away. In an instant, we clipped shoulder and chest, sending me spinning through the air before we both landed firmly on the cool, wet grass. I was. I burst out in a laugh before I hit the ground. We were both laughing hard from enjoyment, excitement, relief, and also pain. I lay on the course with cool sweat on my brow, noticing the all the stars I could for the first time that night. Bernard would be at Navy boot camp in a couple weeks, old friends were moving away for college, but everything felt more than fine in that moment. I could never find it in me to be sad about it, because when I think of them, I remember the fantastic times, nights, and laughs we've had, and the abounding good times that we will have. I never know how to end stories, so I think I'll paraphrase C.S. Lewis' The Four Loves, because I think he said it best. “Friendship is unnecessary. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”