Diary of Carolyn

DIARY OF CAROLYN

Chapter Six

Copyright 1997

Skull Duggery

This is a work of fiction

My heart raced with a combination of excitement and fear as I began to hear the sounds of people as I got closer to the park. It was almost eleven thirty and it hadn't occurred to me that there would be so many people still up and about. I crept carefully closer, trying to keep out of the moonlight as much as possible, when suddenly I heard the sound of children. A big lump began to form in my throat as the children's voices grew louder. I frantically searched for someplace to hide. There was little, if any, underbrush this close to the camp ground that hadn't either been cleared or beaten down by campers. Although the trees were by no means sparse, none were very large, and they had been pruned to seven or eight feet up. I may have been slim, in fact, I'm sure there are some who would have even called me skinny, but I assure you, there just weren't any tree trunks in sight that would have hidden me from prying eyes.

The lump that occupied my throat felt like it would all but choke me to death as the voices began to take the shape of several small children as they became visible in the moonlight. And if that wasn't bad enough, one of the little fuckers was carrying a flashlight, the beam of light darting about as they ran here and there between the trees. Though I was sure they hadn't yet saw me, they kept coming in my direction like they were following some sort of homing beacon. I wondered if Murphy's Law worked as well on the Irish as on the rest of us. As they drew closer and closer, my options were quickly dwindling away. One, I could turn tail and run ever so silently, making no noise for them to hear gliding like a gazelle through the dry leaves and twigs covering the forest floor. Right, I'm sure. Two, I could just stroll on in my birthday suit, walking past them without a care. Not likely. Three, I could just walk up to them and say something intelligent like, hi guys, ever seen a naked lady before? Nah. Considering that sex and nudity were numbers eight and nine of the seven deadly sins in this bible bounced country, that is unless you happen to be the bible bouncer in which case bible bouncing rules don't apply, these sheltered little brats would go screaming back and at best, be traumatized for life. Not to mention the myriad of sex crimes I would be charged with after the innocent little tots were bible bounced into confessing all the torture, rape, abuse, and other sorted evil deeds I perpetrated on them. Bad idea.

I was down to option last. Option last rated only slightly above the others, but as it's name implied, left me no other choice. However, this fact gave me little comfort as I climbed through the sharp branches into the relative safety of the nearest tree. I perched silently, and uncomfortably I might add, as the little group passed beneath me. Finally the lump released it's grip on my throat as the figures again faded into voices as they returned from where they came. Satisfied I was no longer in danger of seeing my face plastered on the Post Office wall under vicious sex criminals, I began to contemplate my decent. You may think me a tad paranoid, and perhaps a bit sarcastic by my thoughts about bible bouncers and sex crimes, but before you pass judgment, think about this. Where but in our great land of the free and home of the brave, can a seventeen year old boy be sent to prison for having consensual intercourse with a seventeen year old girl, and yet Catholic priests are unpunished for having non consensual sex with five and six year old children. Put that in your bible and bounce it.

It may be said that what goes up, must come down. If this is true, why is it always harder to climb down from something than it was going up? For instance, that short branch attempting to enter my vagina gave me no problem on the way up. I did however, with a few added minor abrasions, successfully extricate myself from the tree.

My recent anxiety combined with the physical exertion of playing lumberjack had caused me to moderately perspire. As I squatted beneath the tree contemplating my next move, I began shivering as the night air evaporated the moisture from my unprotected body. The night was by no means cold, but with the humidity still high, even seventy degrees can be chilly to a nudist. I checked the time. Quarter past twelve. Not wanting to repeat the last forty five minutes, I figured I'd wait until one o'clock before continuing towards the lake. I sat with my back to the base of the tree, drew my legs up to my chest, wrapped my arms around them and settled back to wait.

I must have fell asleep because the next thing I remember was being a lot colder than I had been. As I ran my hands over my body trying to get some relief from the chill, I could feel all my normally invisible little body hairs sticking straight out between the sandpaper like goose bumps formed on my exposed flesh. A brief moment of panic cleared my thoughts as I checked my watch. Ten after one. Perfect. Brushing myself off as I got to my feet, I shook off the cold as much as I could before starting for the lake. I don't know much about astronomy, but this was one of those nights when the moon seems to be in the same position in relation to the time as the sun is during the day. It made everything look weird in an eerie sort of way with the moon shadows bringing an almost life like quality to the normally inanimate inhabitants of the forest. With flashlight in hand, I headed for the lake.

It may not seem very challenging to grab a skinny dip in the dead of night, however, this particular site is far from normal. Very few of the inland lakes in this part of the country are what you would call "natural". Most started as either granite or marble quarries that filled with water when the quarrymen finally reached a depth sufficient to release an underground water supply. As a result, most are bordered by sheer rock except for where the original entrance to the quarry was. In my case, the only area accessing the lake, was the camp ground. Unless of course, you were to make a hundred foot dive from the rock wall, in which case you would still have to exit at the camp ground, and undoubtedly someone would hear the splash from your hundred foot dive, and from sheer curiosity be looking for the cause. So you see, not simple.

Except for a few lingering camp fires, there seemed to be no activity as I crept along the edge of the camp area. Keeping low, I eased closer to the water's edge trying to be as silent as possible. So far, so good. Fortunately, due to my level of fear and excitement, my shivering had stopped making it easier to avoid detection. Other than an occasional cough or grunt from a sleeping camper, and the gentle lapping of the lake water on the shore, all was quiet.

I made my way to the point where the shore and rock wall met at the water's edge. I quickly stashed my flashlight by the rock wall as I was easily visible in the bright moonlight if anyone happened to look my way. With the fear of detection foremost in my mind, I quickly slipped into the icy quarry lake. Quarry lakes are famous, or infamous depending on your point of view, for their nearly constant fifty two degree water. As a result, the shock from being suddenly immersed naked forced an uncontrollable yelp from my lips as the icy water took my breath away. Another unique thing about quarry lakes, is their short beaches. So only about fifty feet from shore, I became too busy treading water while trying to recover from the initial shock of the cold water to notice much of anything else.

Being tossed naked from an iceberg in the Arctic Ocean would have been less of a shock than what happened next. As my body adjusted to the cold water, I was able to breath more normally. I also became aware of some sort of activity in the camp ground. Unsure of what was actually going on, I swam quietly to spot by the rock wall about three hundred feet from shore where I could still see the entire camp but was myself pretty well hidden from view. Finding a hand hold at near water level, I tried to figure out what was happening on shore.

That familiar lump began invading my throat again as I could see one, then two, three, then several flashlight beams darting around the camp ground. I held my watch to the moonlight. It was two o'clock. Damn, what the hell are those people doing?

The beams of bouncing light started coming towards the lake. What the fuck is happening? I thought to myself as I swam further down the rock face. It looked as if the entire camp was up now. They were now shinning their lights out onto the lake. They're looking for me. That can't be. I was sure no one had seen me. I tried to hear what they were saying but my brain was starting to get cloudy as the icy water took it's toll on me. I slowly moved closer, staying close to the rock wall. I was starting to get really scared. It was getting more difficult to move my arms and legs as my body edged closer to hypothermia. Finally I could hear one understandable voice over the excited mob scurrying aimlessly around the camp.

She was hollering something about loosing her kid. Son of a bitch, they were looking for a lost kid. As my mind assembled the facts, I started to become nauseated from the panic and fear this realization brought. And what made me feel even worse, it had been my own yelp when entering the water, that had got someone's attention. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I eased along the sheer rock toward the mob of hysterical fools lining the water's edge. By now the only choices I had left were either to stay put and die from hypothermia, or get to the beach and die from humiliation. Believe it or not, I was having trouble reaching a decision.

Stay of execution. You heard right, Murphy granted me a stay of execution. I take back everything I have ever said bad about that hard headed, trouble causing, arrogant Irishman, shit, I mean kind hearted and helpful arrogant Irishman. Only moments before my fate was to be sealed, the kid they thought was drowned in the lake, they found wandering around right along with them. They then started thanking God and they all hugged the half asleep little boy as if he had just been pulled from the fires of hell. At least that's what it looked like. Personally, I hope they were thanking God for delivering them from stupidity. Maybe next time it would occur to look in the kid's bed before booking passage on the cruise to mass hysteria. Still, I thought, that's a tall order even for a God. Perhaps if they offered a human sacrifice? Nah.

For me however, it was still not an ideal situation. It looked as though everyone had retired to their various tents and RV's, but they were certainly still awake, and would be much longer than I could stay in the water. I needed to exit this lake right now. My arms and legs had long since become numb and though I knew I was still moving them as I reached the waters edge, I couldn't feel a thing.

Keeping very low and quiet, I crept onto the beach at the same place I had entered. I was rather surprised at finding my flashlight right where I left it. I thought sure someone would have at least found that in their frantic search. Carefully, I made my way back to the safety of the woods.

The feeling started returning to my extremities before I had gone very far. And along with the feeling, came the inevitable violent convulsions suffered by anyone whose core body temperature has ever gotten as low as mine was. This however, was a new experience for me. Actually, referring to my next hour as an experience, would have been like referring to Hiroshima as a fireworks display. Unless you have ever had the ill fate of having become hypothermic, your wildest nightmares are pale in comparison to what I am about to describe. In all my self imposed or otherwise tortures and ordeals, before or since, were no worse than removing a splinter compared to what I suffered that night. Did I say violent convulsions? Violent does not begin to describe hypothermic convulsions. First, I'll give you a few simple facts to help you understand what happens. One, normal body temperature, as I'm sure you already know, is ninety eight point six degrees. Two, the most energy consuming task your body has is to maintain that temperature. Three, muscles produce heat. The harder they work, the more the heat they produce. Four, the more the body tries to rise above it's normal temperature, the more you sweat so that the effect of evaporative cooling will keep the temperature normal. In fact, only a two or three degree rise will make you sweat bullets.

Keep in mind, more muscles, more heat. When your body temperature becomes ten or fifteen degrees to low, and stays that way long, your body dies. Your body does not want to die. Regardless of what you may want, your body is going to do everything possible to get it's temperature back to normal. A body is mostly water. In my case about one hundred fifteen pounds. That is roughly fifteen gallons of water. Now, imagine how much heat it would take to raise the temperature of fifteen gallons of water fifteen degrees in one hour. Lastly, imagine how hard every last muscle in your body would have to work to produce that much heat. Result, violent convulsions.

The only possible bright side to any of this was that I had managed to get out of earshot of the campers before being disabled by the convulsions. Good thing because for the next hour or so, I was completely and utterly unable to control anything I did. For all I know, the forest may have vibrated with my screams of agony. I do know however, that at sometime during my convulsive state, I let loose of all my bodily functions. When the agonizing convulsions finally turned to more normal teeth chattering shivers, I began to assess my situation. My front was covered with vomit mixed with dirt, leaves, twigs and other such debris. Judging from the smell, I had also shit myself and apparently rolled in it. It was four thirty in the morning and I was a good two hours from home. I was half frozen to death, butt naked and covered head to toe with piss, shit, puke and who knows what else. I must be the stupidest bitch alive. When I do get home, I think I'll just spend the day sticking pins in my tits to remind me of the fact.