Wood
Wood“Timber!” and with a crash the mighty oak hit the ground.
There was never a tree too big or a job too tough for Woody. He
enjoyed his job as a lumberjack and with good reason. The pay
was good, he had always liked the outdoors and he was good at
what he did. In fact, some say he was the best. His friends in the
city however said he was crazy for moving away. They said there
are so many opportunities in the city, but Woody never wanted
opportunities, he just wanted to be a lumberjack.
So far this job was running smoothly. They were on schedule
and there was an abundance of trees in British Columbia to keep
them busy for the next while. It seemed so simple at first. Woody
and his crew would cut down the trees and they would be shipped
to a nearby river where they would be floated downstream to the
new lumber mill. At least this was what was supposed to happen.
After the first couple loads, there came reports that the logs
weren’t reaching their destination. Some of the men started talking
about how they were logging on uncharted territory and this was
a bad omen. Woody just laughed and said, “Uncharted territory or
not, we have a job to do and I’m not going to let some little thing
like this ruin my reputation. I’ll go see what the problem is.” And
so Woody packed a bag with supplies and sailed off down the river
to find the missing logs. It wasn’t long before the lush green
landscape of trees he saw around him became a bare region of
stumps and small brush. It was almost as if another logging crew
had been here before him. He was amazed at the number of trees
that had been cut down. It would have taken his entire crew at least
a week and yet all of the stumps looked freshly cut. Woody had to
find out what was happening. A bit further down the river he found
his answer. There in front of him were all of the missing logs.
They had became jammed at the base of the biggest beaver dam he
had ever seen. He gazed up at it in awe of it’s shear size. The river
itself was quite wide and this dam covered it from shore to shore.
Judging by the enormous shadow, which loomed over him, Woody
estimated the dam to be at least thirty feet high. This was not a
normal beaver dam. Just then it hit him that if he didn’t get rid of
this dam, the logs wouldn’t make it to the lumber mill. As much as
Woody hated destroying something so awesome as this, he
couldn’t bear the thought of his perfect record being tarnished. He
made up his mind, reached into his bag of supplies and pulled out a
stick of dynamite. He was going to blow the dam. Little did he
know that someone or something was watching his every move.
Woody heard something and spun around in his boat. Nothing was
there. He heard something else in the other direction and turned but
still nothing. He called, “Who’s out there?” but got no answer.
Woody was beginning to get frightened and yelled, “I’ve got a gun
so just stay away!” He was bluffing. He decided that he wasn’t
going near that dam so he lit the fuse on the explosive and hurled it
toward the center of the dam. He sped up the river and it wasn’t
long before he heard the thunderous explosion behind him. There
was something else though, something after the explosion. It
sounded like a wailing of sorts. It sounded like something was in
agonizing pain. Woody could tell something was wrong. He went
back down the river to make sure the dynamite had done it’s job
but nothing could have prepared him for what he would find. There
on top of what was left of the dam was a beaver with his head
pointed to the sky moaning in a way that sent shivers up Woody’s
spine. It was then that the beaver spotted Woody and let loose a
horrible hiss. It leaped into the water came at the boat. Woody
panicked and couldn’t get the motor started. He could see the
creature swimming towards him but he just couldn’t start it.
Suddenly with tremendous force, the animal struck the boat,
overturning it. Woody fell, banging his head on the side of the craft
and becoming unconscious. He woke up on the shore of the river,
looked at his watch and realized he was only out for a few minutes.
After he finished thanking God for sparing his life he looked to the
sky and saw a billowing cloud of black smoke in the sky above
what he guessed was his logging camp. He ran up the shores of the
river as fast as he could but by the time he got there it was too late.
The camp was in ruins. The buildings were aflame and the bodies
of his fallen comrades lay scattered about the camp. They had put
up quite a fight but they were no match for the beast. This was no
ordinary beaver. Their arms and legs had been severed from their
bodies and appeared to be missing. Woody knew that none of this
would have happened if he hadn’t destroyed the animal’s home.
He felt responsible and realized that the only way to make this
right would be to avenge their death’s and keep this psychotic little
rodent from killing anyone else. He grabbed his trusty ax and set
off tracking the elusive creature. Woody knew where the beaver
would go, right back to the river. He charged off through the brush
towards the river. When he got there he began to think that maybe
this wasn’t such a good idea. He found the bloodthirsty little
beaver alright and he located the missing appendages. The beaver
had begun to build a new dam only this time out of human body
parts. The beaver glared at him with hatred in his eyes and Woody
stood tall. They both knew that only one of them would walk
away. The beaver flew through the air at him but Woody blocked
the beast’s razor sharp fangs with the handle of his ax.
Unfortunately Woody forgot the handle was made of wood and the
creature gnawed through it with ease. Woody kicked it away and
charged, raising his now slightly shorter ax above his head as a
savage would with tomahawk. He brought it down with all of his
strength and it found it’s mark. The head of the ax was buried deep
into the beaver’s pelt. The beaver fell and a sharp pain hit Woody.
The chewed off handle of the ax had impaled Woody in the chest.
He looked down at the dead beaver and knew he could die
peacefully now, and with his perfect record intact.