Hermit on the Campus

It was a hot mid August day. The first day of the 1997 cross country season. Running on a team was the last thing David wanted to do, but his parent's decided it would be best for him. He walked timidly into the front door of Paschal and awaited the meeting. Standing in the hall way was Tom and several girls. There was an argument in progress about who had the best shoes.


"Hey kid," said Tom to David. "Who has the best shoes, me or Prudence here?"


"A shoe is a shoe," said David. He wasn't quite sure if he had come to the right place or for the right sport. After about 15 minutes of waiting, Mr. Einboden the XC coach arrived and the meeting began. David sat behind Tom and next to Tom was Jacob.


"You just get gayer and gayer every year, Tom," said Jacob.


"Don't make me have to beat you up before the school year," said Tom in defense.


A very caedaverous Brad walked into the XC class room and sat down in the back corner. Someone whispered that he was supposedly very fast. Mr. Einboden the coach then began his opening season lecture. He explained how he was fed up with crappy seasons. He wanted this one to be different. He told the team to go out side, stretch, and run for thirty minutes.


Being fanatically religious, David was very concerned. It was The Feast of the Asspumption, a Holy Day of Obligation. "Is running on a Holy Day of Obligation considered unnessasary servile labor?" asked David to Mr. Einboden.


"What!?" replied the coach with a laugh. "Running isn't work, it's fun. Get out there and run."


Brad and Tom led the stretches while the rest of the small team tried to follow along. "Are we going to run a whole mile?" asked David to Brad.


"Ha! we're gonna run farther than that," replied Brad.


Once the stretches were complete, the whole team took off on their course. From the very beginning, David was far behind. After not running at all over the summer, this new experience was the worst physical pain he had ever felt.


After covering nearly a half mile, David was barely conscious. Brad tried to give some support but it was in vain. As soon as no one was looking, he snuck back to Paschal. David's ride was already waiting out in front of the school. He hopped into the car and shouted "floor it!"

* * *

David begged his parents to let him quit, but they wouldn't here of it. So he continued the dreaded sport with a grudge. As school he was fast becoming renowned for his ambitions to become a monk. He gave the XC team much inspiration through the biblical quotes he selected and wrote on the cross country class room marker board.


By mid October he had improved greatly. David had gone from being the very slowest to one of the slower runners on the team. He was also fast becoming the hero of the seniors on the team.


Two days before SMAC, the team was doing hills. It was a bitter cold late October day. An icy north-eastern wind searched the runner's bodys with cruel fingers as they ran up and down the hill. The noise of coughs, sneezes, and nose blowings was almost deafining at times. When the team was about to do the last hill together, a sudden pious urge came over David. He stood silently behind the rest as they took off running in unison. They quickly dissappered over the summit of the first hill and David was left in solitude.


He tightened his wind jacket and walked out onto the pier. There David knealt down at the very brink of the end of the dillapidated old pier. He took out his rosary and began praying away, while occasionaly looking up to admire the scenic beauty of the frigid bay.


He was nearly through with the first decade when a sea gull flew over and let its fecies spill onto David's head. This so startled David that he jolted, lost his balance, flailed his arms, and plunged off the pier into the freezing water with a great splash.


When David's mom came to pick him up that day, she waited for hours with no sign of him. The members of the cross country team said they thought he had been running along side them. It was decided that he had either run away or been abducted by aliens. Some people started rumors about sightings of the mysterious boy who had dissapperead. People on the softball, fieldhockey, and track teams claimed to often get the feeling that someone was watching them from the woods, only for him to vanish when they tried investigating.


The senile old brother Lloyd claimed to have a personal relationship with this strange person. Of course, no one took him the least bit seriously.


Two years had gone by and now it was the beginning of the 1999 XC season. Brad and Tom were long gone and David was a only a vague memory to the few people who had known him well. The team of eager runners took their seats in the class room and Mr. Einboden began the lecture.


"Alright," began Mr. Einboden. "I'm tired of having crappy seasons. Let's make this fall different. A few things about the trail in the woods: if you see any kids out there smoking, drinking, whatever, report them."


"They'll kill us if we narc on them," said Aaron from his seat.


"Stop being such a pussy," said Adam B.


"We could always just run away from them," said Joe.


"I am Satan," growled Stephen in gruff voice.


"Hey, quiet!" commanded Mr. E. "Oh yeah, another thing: this is pretty funny. That nut Br. Lloyd doesn't want anyone in the woods. He thinks they'll disturb his friend the hermit."


"Who is the hermit?" asked a freshmen.


"I hearwd thwat hwe's a cwazy cannibwal," said Joey Wayhall.


"No, he's like, some guy that totally needs a haircut," said Emily P. from under some guy's desk.


"He's some kinda really holy guy," said Matt.


"Some say that he's really David Raley," said Rick. "A guy I knew from eighth grade.


"Wasn't he that really religious guy that dissapperead at the beginning of freshmen year?" asked Alden.


"It's all bull," said Mr. Einboden. "Now get out there and run!" The room cleared out and thus began another XC season.


A week later, on the first day of school, practice was at one o'clock pm, practically the hottest part of the day. The team ran through the girl's soccer field and descended into the woods. Stephen and Alden were about 50 yards behind everybody else. When the rest of the team rounded a sharp turn in the path, the two slow pokes halted and plopped down on the dirt. The trail they were sitting along ran along the edge of a ridge that plunged into a deep gorge.


"Why did I let them talk me into to doing this shit?" panted Stephen.


"My sentiments exactly," replied Alden.


The two continued resting for several minutes until they suddenly became aware of unfamiliar voices apporoaching them. Four kids rounded a turn and came into view from the way Alden and Stephen had come. The kids had mow hawks, spiked collars, leather jackets, and baggy jeans. Each of them had a joint or two potruding from his mouth. The two parties stared silently at each other for several moments. The trackers looked like they were about to run away when they're leader stepped forward.


"We didn't see notin' if you didn't see notin'," he said.


"We've already seen plenty," replied Alden.


"Get them!" screamed the trackers as they charged forward.


Alden socked the leader and broke his nose. But in doing so Alden cut his hand on the tracker's nose ring.


Another one of the trackers leapt at Stephen bearing his brass fangs. Stephen fell over and together he and the tracker rolled down into the steep gorge.


Alden was being attacked by two trackers at once. He was larger and stronger than both of them but they were more nimble. After a long battle Alden grabbed them both by the hair and slammed their heads together.


Meanwhile, Stephen and the tracker were now at the bottom of the thickly wooded gorge. Stephen was badly scratched and bruised from the fall. He was lying in a shallow stream that ran through the trough of the gorge. Looking up, he saw that the tracker had already recovered.


"Look what I've got for yah big boy," said the tracker as he produced a switch blade from his pocket and let the blade pop out. Stephen covered his eyes, expecting to get stabbed any second when the tracker suddenly let out a scream. Stephen looked up to see the tracker fall face forward into the stream. Potruding from his back was a long wooden arrow.


Just then a strange looking person hopped out from behind a large rock, about ten yards behind where the tracker had stood. In his hand he held a bow and a arrow quiver was strapped to across his back. The man only about three and a half feet tall. He was chubby, clad in animal skins, and the tops of his bare feet were covered with a thick brown fur.


"Would you like to come over to my cave for some tea and crumpets?" asked the strange little man.


"Who-who-what are you?" asked a bewildered Stephen.


"Have ever heard any rumors about a, hmm, 'hermit'?"

TO BE CONTINUED