Rusty Trap

The Old Rusty Trap

            I am moving through my life careful as I can and I’m looking for the traps ahead. I see an old and rusty trap. Blood has dried on it. It’s been set off before. I think I recognize it. Yes, I do recognize it; I have been in it before. Now I know it’s there I know that he has set it for me. He is hoping that I fail; I can feel him watching me, grinning because he knows that even though I’m aware of it, even though I could easily step aside I will walk into it again.

            The blood on it is mine. I can still feel the wounds that it made on my body, and my mind. Yet there is still something attractive about it, something that inexorably draws me to it. It’s not concealed, he has displayed it right in front of me, his arrogance is amazing, but there must be something to it for I have not ever been able to escape it.

            I now stand above it; I can feel it calling to me. I crouch down and feel the sides of it, gently stroking the outside edge with the back of my hand. A little more courageously I feel the inside edge, the smallest mistake and it will go off and the sharp teeth with dig into my arm. I see the trigger, a small round pad directly in the center of the trap. When pushed it will snap shut with a furious speed and trap my poor arm.

            I begin to move my hand towards the trigger pad, as I do this all of the scars that run up and down my body began to burn in remembrance of the pain this action has cause me in the past. The scars begin at my legs, they are still red and sore for those first injuries never healed. Those on my arms came next; these still cause blood to run down the length of my arm. Finally the two on my ribs come with excruciating pain. The bleeding from these is accompanied by broken ribs which are the cause of a pained heart.

            I wish I had never fallen for this trap in the first place. It could have been easily avoided. Many people shared their knowledge of it, and their warnings of how best to avoid it. But in the intelligence of my self I saw fit to ignore it. And again, I could go past it easily enough and move on but I have to test it. Pit myself against it, see how far I can go until…. Snap! It shuts tight on me again.

            My hand is now hovering lightly above the trigger. I know this will hurt me; I know that I will regret this the second I do it. Slowly and cautiously I begin to push downward.

            A hand grabs my arm and quickly pulls me away. It has a wound on the back of his hand and going through to his palm. I look up and see my friend looking at me with a concerned look on his face. He helps me up and puts his arm around me. With me leaning on him, we walk carefully past the old rusty trap.