PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields
He looked at his camp. Not much for 38 years of living and he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. He’d sold his truck to buy gear. He’d been tired of sleeping in it anyway. Hell to town. He didn’t need them.
First things first. Scope out the land with his Edible Plants book. Camp rations got old fast.
Returned at dusk to trashed supplies and snores echoing from his tent. What the? Marching up, he snapped back the flap. Momma Bigfoot, Daddy Bigfoot and Baby Bigfoot, all taking a nap.
He gathered the food pack, his survival knife, and high-tailed it out of there before nap time was over. Town sounded damn good after all.