The Lone Brave

One little brave stood alone in a land that was unknown to him. He was in a land far from the badlands that his people knew so well, far from what he called home. The little Indian stood; alert to the unfamiliar surroundings. Then by what seemed to be instinct, the mighty brave dropped to the ground, his ear pressed flush to the Earth, listening to a distant sound. A sound he had heard before. Approaching from the east were six enemies. Time was short. Preparations had to be made. He had the element of surprise. His only path to success was to ambush them.

Gathering his personal effects and stowing them neatly in his pouch, the lone brave donned his feathered headdress. Reaching to the Earth, his fingertips outstretched, he ran them along the soft ground scooping up dark mud. Almost ceremoniously, he applied the Earth to his face. He took the hatchet from his belt and gripped it tightly in his hand. He was ready. Now able to hear his enemy approaching, he clambered into a nearby tree.

Peering around the branches and leaves he squinted into the darkness, nothing he could have done could have prepared him for what his eyes now beheld. A man was walking towards him, but the man looked to have been buried long ago. Holes in the decayed flesh showed bloodless muscle beneath. Torn and tattered clothing hung off of his lifeless form. Next to him was what appeared to be a pale looking man with knives for teeth. With his hood hiding his face, all that could be seen were two small, red eyes. A golden amulet glistened on his chest. Following closely behind were four other beings that the brave could never have imagined. A man clothed in a smooth white material with what seemed to be a clear round helmet over his head and face. A giant lizard walking upright appeared to be talking to the man with the sharp teeth. In the rear were two females. One had a beautiful dress with what looked like wings protruding from her back. The other had strange ears and a tail...resembling a dog.

Mustering what courage he had, the mighty warrior leapt from the tree, hatchet in hand. To his disbelief, the group of people ran toward him, their arms outstretched and each of them holding some sort of satchel. Before he could move or react at all they were all around him. Then almost in unison, they all cried, “Trick or treeeat!"

Laughing, the mighty brave reached into his deerskin pouch and pulled out some candy. He jovially dropped some in each of the bags. Then, unwrapping one for himself he stood laughing, eating his lollipop.