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Weekly Contest #37
When I was seven years old, I got lost in the woods behind my house for four hours. My father and I had been walking out to the small pond that lay in the woods connected to our back yard, where we would sometimes fish just to pass the time on a warm Saturday afternoon. I knew the way by heart. As long as you stayed on the well-worn dirt path, you would be fine. It took maybe ten minutes to walk from our back porch to the pond. Ten minutes of listening to my father’s pitchy whistling – broken on occasion when he would reprimand me for lettin...
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