He was 18, and still in school unlike the couple of loner friends he had who had graduated last year. Bentley Hill High School was nothing but a waste of time. His drug-addicted mum and wanker of a step-father made his home life a misery. The lack of light was messing with his sense of direction, and the hiding sun meant he couldn’t figure out which way was north-east, where his home was. His internal compass usually managed to help him get home, but today. His accursed lack of athleticism made the shortcut through the forest hard, but not impossible, and this was only the second time he had become lost.
“Damn it, Mike, why are you so bloody clumsy?” he said to himself, as he picked his way over the roots spread over the forest floor.
Perhaps that was why he had lost his path home, that, and his clumsy feet. The sun struggled to pierce through the thick canopy of the forest, despite it only being 4:30 in the afternoon.
The woods were thick and dark as Mike walked home from school, unable to find the path he had lost.