My Secret Hideaway

Categories: JungleSecretsSquirrel

I have been driven up the wall many times in school and at home; I sometimes feel that I am surrounded by horrible human beings. At times like this, I thank God I had discovered my secret hideaway.

My secret hideaway is actually an abandoned hut about 3km in the jungle behind my home. Whenever I have the urge to go on my therapeutic trip, I usually leave in the morning. After packing my haversack with bottles of water, some food, books and other essential items such as a machete and torchlight, I set off with a spring in my steps.

I like the early morning walk through the jungle; the air is crisp and invigorating. The gloom provided by the jungle canopy is punctuated by beams of sunlight. I have often stopped and stared at the magical vision that has never felt to me in awe.

By the time I reach my exalted hut, I am pumped with energy. The hut is partially covered by wild creepers that if one were easily spooked gives it eerie, haunted look.

As I open the door to let the air and the sun rush in, I am careful to see what rushes out, squirrel has scampered, snake has slithered and some birds have flapped out. My heart is relatively easy. There is a mat, an old cupboard and some cooking utensils left behind the former lodger. I have kept the place clean, spartan though it may be. I spend a lot of my time outside the hut.

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Many a time, I have screamed like a screamed like a banshee and howled like a demented werewolf.

Every time I feel a need to release my tension and every pent-up anger then I have foolishly retained the whole week. Not too far away from the hut, it’s a stream that has always seemed inviting on hot days. As the sun rises in the sky and the humidity of the jungle gets to me, I discard my clothes and take a cold dip. Algebra and History seem like million miles away. I clamber up a rock under a shady tree and let the drowsiness suck me away into oblivion. I have always regarded the hut and the immediate vicinity around the hut as my own inviolable sanctuary.

Once, when I heard muffled voices approaching my hut, I felt a surge of fury because I believed my private place was out of bounds to any intruders. I actually armed myself with a stick to ward off the unwelcomed destroyers of my peace. Luckily, the voices faded away. I was still King of my Realm. By evening, the lengthening shadows are not the only cues for me to bid farewell to my hideaway; birds calling home to roost also provide a filling finale. Before darkness descends, I bid adieu to my beloved hideaway. By now, my tension has dissipated, I am fully de-stressed and I am suffused with tranquility. I am ready to face the world.

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My Secret Hideaway. (2016, Oct 02). Retrieved from

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