Tommy the half-blind dog runs ahead of me on the little trail in the jungle. (Half-blind, because of the cataract in one of his eyes.)

Jungle? I think so. Any place where you can’t see the next house from the one you’re in because of the vast multitude of trees and other vegetation that block the view is, in my humble opinion, a jungle. And by ‘vast multitude’ I mean vast. Thick enough that you would have to walk a few minutes through it to get to the other house.

I wasn’t going to any ‘other house’ however. I was simply headed towards a little brook some distance away, Tommy the stray, half-blind dog leading the way. He had no permanent owners, and stayed with whoever gave him food (quite like a cat). He was a bit off in the head, too, I guessed; he rubbed against tree stumps and pounced on dead leaves and sniffed at flowers as he ran.

I reach the brook, and Tommy crosses it swiftly, running into the trees that lie beyond it. I slip my feet into the cool water and watch as little fish suck dead skin off my toes and heels. I look at the sunlight as it falls on the water and reflects off, and look away. The bright patches of water really contrast its coolness.

I stand like that for a while, and then get tired and slip my shoes on again to walk back. The sun is setting in the distance; I better get to higher ground fast before complete darkness. I begin the walk upwards. Leaves crackle under my feet and the wind blows them onto my legs. I quicken my pace. It’s getting darker, but I can still see.

I break into a slight jog and look down as I move ahead. The wind is picking up, and I stop to check whether there are clouds in the sky. None; no rain tonight. I shudder slightly and start walking again.

And stop. Behind me, something moves loudly. I look for the source of the movement, and judging that it came from behind me, turn around to face a wild berry bush. The bush shakes again, shedding dead leaves and rotting berries. I take a step back, just a small step.

My breathing is getting ragged and suddenly I can’t stop thinking. My thoughts get faster and faster; wild boars that could run me over, Bengal tigers whose paws were the size of my head, yellow-striped snakes that could coil snugly around my neck, crocodiles that could swallow me whole… I think of running. How fast were aggressive langurs again?

The bush shakes violently and I think I hear something growl inside it. I start moving backwards, keeping my eyes on the bush. Something pounces out of the bush, and I scream and fall down.

Tommy wags his tail, his good eye looking at me.

In his mouth is a scorpion, its venomous tail hanging limply; dead.