He had tripped and fallen, bashed his head on a rock. It cracked his head open. Blood spilled everywhere, staining the crunchy new fallen snow around him. His vision blurred and all he could do was lay there staring up at the trees as he slowly lost consciousness due to blood loss.
Am I dying? he thought to himself. Is this really it, or will someone find me...no...no one knows where I am...
The world went black.
The next day a hiker's dog found the body, and the hiker called the park rangers. He was dead, he had bled out from his head, and judging by the splatter on the rock they guess that he had fallen and hit his head.
"This is why you don't hike alone," said one of the rangers to his partner.
"Yeah, now we're going to have to call this guys family and tell them the bad news."
"Stuff like this is what makes me hate my job, Ben."
"I hear ya Ralph, I hear ya."
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