|
|
|
|||
| Diary of Carolyn 6 | Back to B | Back to main page |
Collected by djian
Diary of Carolyn
This story was written by ME. It contains words and
phrases of a sexual nature. I personally do not care
who or what reads it or what age they are as long as
it brings them any measure of enjoyment. However to
satisfy the paranoid among us this disclaimer forewarns
them of the possible decline in their perceived level
of morality by continuing past this point.
Copyright 1997
Skull Duggery
This is a work of fiction.
Part6
My heart raced with a combination of excitement and fear
as I began to hear the sounds of people as I got closer to the
park. It was almost eleven thirty and it hadn't occurred to me
that there would be so many people still up and about. I crept
carefully closer, trying to keep out of the moonlight as much
as possible, when suddenly I heard the sound of children. A
big lump began to form in my throat as the children's voices
grew louder. I frantically searched for someplace to hide.
There was little, if any, underbrush this close to the camp
ground that hadn't either been cleared or beaten down by
campers. Although the trees were by no means sparse, none were
very large, and they had been pruned to seven or eight feet
up. I may have been slim, in fact, I'm sure there are some who
would have even called me skinny, but I assure you, there just
weren't any tree trunks in sight that would have hidden me
from prying eyes.
The lump that occupied my throat felt like it would all
but choke me to death as the voices began to take the shape of
several small children as they became visible in the
moonlight. And if that wasn't bad enough, one of the little
fuckers was carrying a flashlight, the beam of light darting
about as they ran here and there between the trees. Though I
was sure they hadn't yet saw me, they kept coming in my
direction like they were following some sort of homing beacon.
I wondered if Murphy's Law worked as well on the Irish as on
the rest of us.
As they drew closer and closer, my options were quickly
dwindling away. One, I could turn tail and run ever so
silently, making no noise for them to hear gliding like a
gazelle through the dry leaves and twigs covering the forest
floor. Right, I'm sure. Two, I could just stroll on in my
birthday suit, walking past them without a care. Not likely.
Three, I could just walk up to them and say something
intelligent like, hi guys, ever seen a naked lady before? Nah.
Considering that sex and nudity were numbers eight and nine of
the seven deadly sins in this bible bounced country, that is
unless you happen to be the bible bouncer in which case bible
bouncing rules don't apply, these sheltered little brats would
go screaming back and at best, be traumatized for life. Not to
mention the myriad of sex crimes I would be charged with after
the innocent little tots were bible bounced into confessing
all the torture, rape, abuse, and other sorted evil deeds I
perpetrated on them. Bad idea.
I was down to option last. Option last rated only
slightly above the others, but as it's name implied, left me
no other choice. However, this fact gave me little comfort as
I climbed through the sharp branches into the relative safety
of the nearest tree. I perched silently, and uncomfortably I
might add, as the little group passed beneath me. Finally the
lump released it's grip on my throat as the figures again
faded into voices as they returned from where they came.
Satisfied I was no longer in danger of seeing my face
plastered on the Post Office wall under vicious sex criminals,
I began to contemplate my decent. You may think me a tad
paranoid, and perhaps a bit sarcastic by my thoughts about
bible bouncers and sex crimes, but before you pass judgment,
think about this. Where but in our great land of the free and
home of the brave, can a seventeen year old boy be sent to
prison for having consensual intercourse with a seventeen year
old girl, and yet Catholic priests are unpunished for having
non consensual sex with five and six year old children. Put
that in your bible and bounce it.
It may be said that what goes up, must come down. If this
is true, why is it always harder to climb down from something
than it was going up? For instance, that short branch
attempting to enter my vagina gave me no problem on the way
up. I did however, with a few added minor abrasions,
successfully extricate myself from the tree.
My recent anxiety combined with the physical exertion of
playing lumberjack had caused me to moderately perspire. As I
squatted beneath the tree contemplating my next move, I began
shivering as the night air evaporated the moisture from my
unprotected body. The night was by no means cold, but with the
humidity still high, even seventy degrees can be chilly to a
nudist. I checked the time. Quarter past twelve. Not wanting
to repeat the last forty five minutes, I figured I'd wait
until one o'clock before continuing towards the lake. I sat
with my back to the base of the tree, drew my legs up to my
chest, wrapped my arms around them and settled back to wait.
I must have fell asleep because the next thing I remember
was being a lot colder than I had been. As I ran my hands over
my body trying to get some relief from the chill, I could feel
all my normally invisible little body hairs sticking straight
out between the sandpaper like goose bumps formed on my
exposed flesh. A brief moment of panic cleared my thoughts as
I checked my watch. Ten after one. Perfect. Brushing myself
off as I got to my feet, I shook off the cold as much as I
could before starting for the lake. I don't know much about
astronomy, but this was one of those nights when the moon
seems to be in the same position in relation to the time as
the sun is during the day. It made everything look weird in an
eerie sort of way with the moon shadows bringing an almost
life like quality to the normally inanimate inhabitants of the
forest. With flashlight in hand, I headed for the lake.
It may not seem very challenging to grab a skinny dip in
the dead of night, however, this particular site is far from
normal. Very few of the inland lakes in this part of the
country are what you would call "natural". Most started as
either granite or marble quarries that filled with water when
the quarymen finally reached a depth sufficient to release an
underground water supply. As a result, most are bordered by
sheer rock except for where the original entrance to the
quarry was. In my case, the only area accessing the lake, was
the camp ground. Unless of course, you were to make a hundred
foot dive from the rock wall, in which case you would still
have to exit at the camp ground, and undoubtedly someone would
hear the splash from your hundred foot dive, and from sheer
curiosity be looking for the cause. So you see, not simple.
Except for a few lingering camp fires, there seemed to be
no activity as I crept along the edge of the camp area.
Keeping low, I eased closer to the water's edge trying to be
as silent as possible. So far, so good. Fortunately, due to my
level of fear and excitement, my shivering had stopped making
it easier to avoid detection. Other than an occasional cough
or grunt from a sleeping camper, and the gentle lapping of the
lake water on the shore, all was quiet.
I made my way to the point where the shore and rock wall
met at the water's edge. I quickly stashed my flashlight by
the rock wall as I was easily visible in the bright moonlight
if anyone happened to look my way. With the fear of detection
foremost in my mind, I quickly slipped into the icy quarry
lake. Quarry lakes are famous, or infamous depending on your
point of view, for their nearly constant fifty two degree
water. As a result, the shock from being suddenly immersed
naked forced an uncontrollable yelp from my lips as the icy
water took my breath away. Another unique thing about quarry
lakes, is their short beaches. So only about fifty feet from
shore, I became too busy treading water while trying to
recover from the initial shock of the cold water to notice
much of anything else.
Being tossed naked from an iceberg in the Arctic Ocean
would have been less of a shock than what happened next. As my
body adjusted to the cold water, I was able to breath more
normally. I also became aware of some sort of activity in the
camp ground. Unsure of what was actually going on, I swam
quietly to spot by the rock wall about three hundred feet from
shore where I could still see the entire camp but was myself
pretty well hidden from view. Finding a hand hold at near
water level, I tried to figure out what was happening on
shore.
That familiar lump began invading my throat again as I
could see one, then two, three, then several flashlight beams
darting around the camp ground. I held my watch to the
moonlight. It was two o'clock. Damn, what the hell are those
people doing?
The beams of bouncing light started coming towards the
lake. What the fuck is happening? I thought to myself as I
swam further down the rock face. It looked as if the entire
camp was up now. They were now shinning their lights out onto
the lake. They're looking for me. That can't be. I was sure no
one had seen me. I tried to hear what they were saying but my
brain was starting to get cloudy as the icy water took it's
toll on me. I slowly moved closer, staying close to the rock
wall. I was starting to get really scared. It was getting more
difficult to move my arms and legs as my body edged closer to
hyperthermia. Finally I could hear one understandable voice
over the excited mob scurrying aimlessly around the camp.
She was hollering something about loosing her kid. Son of
a bitch, they were looking for a lost kid. As my mind
assembled the facts, I started to become nauseated from the
panic and fear this realization brought. And what made me feel
even worse, it had been my own yelp when entering the water,
that had got someone's attention. Tears streamed down my
cheeks as I eased along the sheer rock toward the mob of
hysterical fools lining the water's edge. By now the only
choices I had left were either to stay put and die from
hyperthermia, or get to the beach and die from humiliation.
Believe it or not, I was having trouble reaching a decision.
Stay of execution. You heard right, Murphy granted me a
stay of execution. I take back everything I have ever said bad
about that hard headed, trouble causing, arrogant Irishman,
shit, I mean kind hearted and helpful arrogant Irishman. Only
moments before my fate was to be sealed, the kid they thought
was drowned in the lake, they found wandering around right
along with them. They then started thanking God and they all
hugged the half asleep little boy as if he had just been
pulled from the fires of hell. At least that's what it looked
like. Personally, I hope they were thanking God for delivering
them from stupidity. Maybe next time it would occur to look in
the kid's bed before booking passage on the cruise to mass
hysteria. Still, I thought, that's a tall order even for a
God. Perhaps if they offered a human sacrifice? Nah.
For me however, it was still not an ideal situation. It
looked as though everyone had retired to their various tents
and RV's, but they were certainly still awake, and would be
much longer than I could stay in the water. I needed to exit
this lake right now. My arms and legs had long since become
numb and though I knew I was still moving them as I reached
the waters edge, I couldn't feel a thing.
Keeping very low and quiet, I crept onto the beach at the
same place I had entered. I was rather surprised at finding my
flashlight right where I left it. I thought sure someone would
have at least found that in their frantic search. Carefully, I
made my way back to the safety of the woods.
The feeling started returning to my extremities before I
had gone very far. And along with the feeling, came the
inevitable violent convulsions suffered by anyone whose core
body temperature has ever gotten as low as mine was. This
however, was a new experience for me. Actually, referring to
my next hour as an experience, would have been like referring
to Hiroshima as a fireworks display.
Unless you have ever had the ill fate of having become
hyperthermic, your wildest nightmares are pale in comparison
to what I am about to describe. In all my self imposed or
otherwise tortures and ordeals, before or since, were no worse
than removing a splinter compared to what I suffered that
night.
Did I say violent convulsions? Violent does not begin to
describe hyperthermic convulsions. First, I'll give you a few
simple facts to help you understand what happens. One, normal
body temperature, as I'm sure you already know, is ninety
eight point six degrees. Two, the most energy consuming task
your body has is to maintain that temperature. Three, muscles
produce heat. The harder they work, the more the heat they
produce. Four, the more the body tries to rise above it's
normal temperature, the more you sweat so that the effect of
evaporative cooling will keep the temperature normal. In fact,
only a two or three degree rise will make you sweat bullets.
Keep in mind, more muscles, more heat. When your body
temperature becomes ten or fifteen degrees to low, and stays
that way long, your body dies. Your body does not want to die.
Regardless of what you may want, your body is going to do
everything possible to get it's temperature back to normal. A
body is mostly water. In my case about one hundred fifteen
pounds. That is roughly fifteen gallons of water. Now, imagine
how much heat it would take to raise the temperature of
fifteen gallons of water fifteen degrees in one hour. Lastly,
imagine how hard every last muscle in your body would have to
work to produce that much heat. Result, violent convulsions.
The only possible bright side to any of this was that I
had managed to get out of earshot of the campers before being
disabled by the convulsions. Good thing because for the next
hour or so, I was completely and utterly unable to control
anything I did. For all I know, the forest may have vibrated
with my screams of agony. I do know however, that at sometime
during my convulsive state, I let loose of all my bodily
functions.
When the agonizing convulsions finally turned to more
normal teeth chattering shivers, I began to assess my
situation. My front was covered with vomit mixed with dirt,
leaves, twigs and other such debris. Judging from the smell, I
had also shit myself and apparently rolled in it. It was four
thirty in the morning and I was a good two hours from home. I
was half frozen to death, butt naked and covered head to toe
with piss, shit, puke and who knows what else. I must be the
stupidest bitch alive. When I do get home, I think I'll just
spend the day sticking pins in my tits to remind me of the
fact.
