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One day when I was a kid, I was playing along the drainage ditch (where I was not supposed to go...). I decided I wanted to cross over to the other side, and went down to the easiest crossing. Well, either the farmer working the land there or the government folks had just cleaned out the ditch, and instead of the fords and fallen trees I usually used to cross over, there was about a 6' wide stretch of really muddy water. A long jump for me, then. I thought about it, and decided that the amount of trouble I would get in for wet and muddy was worth it, besides, I could get a good running start up in the field, down the bank and take of right at the edge, which was good and firm. So, I backed off and ran as fast as I could! I sailed accross and landed with several inches to spare. As I came down on my right foot, something thrashed under my foot. My mind said "Frog!" and my eyes said "long, thick, black thing dissappearing both ways into the grass....BIG SNAKE!!!!" My left foot never touched the ground. I came part way down...and the next thing I knew I was flying accross the field, back on the other side...bone dry. I armed myself with a branch (duh...but I was young) and went back down to the gully. I found my footprints going down...but only 1 print comming back up. I had taken off from a standing start, jumped backwards and turned in the air...and landed a few feet up the bank on the other side. My second step carried me the rest of the way up, and into the field, several feet away. True terror is a powerful thing. |
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