Paul held the bottle of whiskey with a lethargic grip as he hiked through the forest, away from the hellhole they call home. The night air held a pure fresh smell, cleansing his mind from the fight he just had with his wife. Twigs snapped as he marched relentlessly.
He took a strong swing of the bottle, then broke it on the trunk of a tree.
There's much to be learned from this land, he said to himself as he looked around. The canopy of the tall trees hid the moon away from him, but he knew past the towering trunks was a white moon looking down at him.
I'd better get back, he thought. As he turned around, he heard a fearsome cry. The sound of a beast echoed through the foliage. His eyes widened with intensity, trying to get a glimpse of where the beast is. He quickly tumbled his way between a covering of boulders, tossing some leaves onto his body in an attempt to blend in with the forest. He strains his eyes, trying to focus on the distance. If he sees the beast first, he might have a chance of survival.
The footsteps of the grizzly bear boomed. His eyes were yellow, and the jaws spewed forth a terrible sight of a bubbling mixture. His eyes were hungry for any excuse of a meal. Paul shook with fear. He was face to face with a creature that he could not reason with, much less overpower. He looked around for anything to defend himself with. Leaves, twigs, dandilions, broken bark scattered the ground. He was defenseless, and the beast was coming closer to the boulders.
The bear came sniffing towards Paul. As he slowed up towards the boulders, he stood on his back legs. Paul was in awe. The bear was a looming seven feet high, blocking all that was between Paul and the forest. It was his chance, Paul thought to himself. He jolted up and began running away from the bear. He ran as fast as he could, not looking for a second behind him. His legs pumped him past the trees and rocks, quickly tiring out on him. Suddenly, a powerful swipe knocked him against a tree. He fell toward the ground, dazed and confused.
As Paul looked up, he saw the beast charging towards him. This is it, he thought. Death by the forces that be. The beast took a lunge, and grabbed Paul by the neck.
Paul woke up. He felt his neck with his hand. "It was...just a dream?" He said. He breathed a sigh of relief, laying back on his bed. He looked to his right, his wife asleep. He turned to his left, a half empty bottle of whiskey. He took the bottle and poured it out onto the porch. Never again would he turn into the beast of his nightmares.