Out of Place

Into the woods he walked. He was no outdoors man and he certainly did not choose the environment. His was the city, that of the cold structures and angry vehicles. There he found comfort, for there he was himself. Yet today he was out of his world, in a place of solitude and peace, a place of loveliness and beauty. It sickened him. The city was dirty and ugly, a world of meanness and hatred; there he felt alive.

Soon he found himself in the midst of a dense growth of oak trees, tall, thick, majestic with crowns of thick green foliage, He could hardly move amongst the trees they grew so thickly. He had to weave between the massive trunks, in the dim light, as the sunlight was blocked by the overgrowth above him. The very sight of the impressive growth sickened him. He longed for concrete and structure, sidewalks and buildings, dirty air and congested streets.

Eventually he moved out of the oak trees and came upon a large collection of lilac. It spread before him as far as he could see. The aroma was overwhelming and assaulted his senses. The flowers were everywhere and the colors were majestic. He pushed his way through the bushes, fighting his way for a long time, seeking the end of the lilac growth. As with the oaks, he was deeply stressed by the experience and thought the lilacs would overcome him before he could free himself from their presence. He longed for the comfort of traffic, the smog and grayness of the urban environment.

Finally moving out of the lilacs, he found himself in the midst of a field of carnations. They seemed to be everywhere, colors bountiful and the aroma nearly as strong as with the lilacs. Now the man staggered. After the oaks and the lilacs, this was simply too much. He could take no more. The flowers attacked his senses. His eyes were alight with color, his nasal senses alive with the smell of the carnations. How could he bear it? It was too much for one man. He wanted to be in a more natural environment, one of car exhaust and waste. A world in which he could be waylaid by grease and oil, by heat and cold.

Suddenly he stumbled into a glade of thick grasses, so thick it was as if he was walking on carpeting. The green was vibrant and the grasses waved in the breeze. He was amazed by the textures and the smoothness, by the softness and the vibrancy of the glade. Yet even here, he was a foreigner. He still missed the filth and stench of the city. He missed the dirt and disease. He could not understand living like this, living in such an unnatural environment.

He stopped where he was and threw his arms out and screamed, as loud as he could, “Kill me now!”



A creaking sound, then a thud, and a tree, long dead and leaning against another, tumbled from its’ perch. It fell in the clearing; it fell directly on the man, killing him instantly.