August 23, 2016

Betemus Quop gazed into the eyes of doom and took one involuntary step backwards and one voluntary step backward. Then both of his legs volunteered to flee with as much haste as Betemus could summon. He sped in a kind of whirling frenzy all the way to the mouth of the cave and shot out into the welcoming snow storm.  His rasping gasps took turns with rib crunching thumps as he caromed from tree to tree all the way down the slope to the rapidly roaring river. He leaped into the freezing churn without entertaining even the most fleeting of thoughts. Swept to a sandbar, Betemus rolled in misery to huddle beneath a thorn bush. Violent winds caused it to stab successfully at his flesh. Three days passed before the volunteers found him. He muttered and sang and snatched at his beard while they carried him back to the village. Once safely home, Betemus Quop vowed never again to seek the eyes of doom. Unfortunately for him, the eyes of doom voluntarily sought him and found him within a week.

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