It was a cold autumn day in the little town of Hogwood. Nestled in the heart of the Catskill Mountains, Hogwood was home to a mere 300 people. Hogwood was a cozy little town hidden between two large mountains covered with trees that towered overhead with lush undergrowth that you could easily get lost in. Trust me, I know; I have been lost in it for days. The mountains seemed to roll as the wind swept down the valley and shook the leaves on the trees. Most people would sit back and take in all of the beauty of the mountains and the town, but not me. The site of the town meant that I was safe at last. You see, I had been lost for days after the hunting trip I was on had gone terribly wrong. My guide, along with most of my gear, was lost. For days I fought the elements, starvation and dehydration, and now I was finally saved, or so I thought.


It took me a while to get down to the little town because much to my surprise, there were no roads leading into Hogwood. Rubbing my eyes and pinching myself, I tried so hard to wake up but I wasn’t sleeping; I stood in disbelief. The town of Hogwood was no ordinary town. It was a town from a novel or a movie, with people dressed like they just walked out of a history book; or I walked into one. The buildings were all log cabin with not one bit of electricity running through them. The people cooked their meals on the wood stoves that were nestled in the corners of each three room house where the fire places were located. Everything was either wood or dirt. Horses were tied to the railings much like you would see in a western movie. In the center of the town lay a single well from which most people gathered their drinking water. There was a little creek in the north end of the town where you could see the people washing their clothes. I soon realized that this town was way off on its timeline.


As I stood there with my rifle and backpack in hand, people started to notice me. It was easy to tell I was not one of them. The people were dressed as if they just recently walked off of the Mayflower. You could see the fear and curiosity in the people’s faces. Some stood and stared while others gathered their children along with their belongings and quickly went inside their log houses. A group of men started to gather on a little porch of the corner church; I could feel that I was already unwanted. I tried to speak to one of the men, but he would not reply. Then I saw one of the men come out of a house carrying a gun. He was a humble man with a hardened face that showed signs of aging. I could tell by looking at him that he was the alpha male of the town. I was expecting confrontation, but what happened next was something I never expected. Director: “Cut, we will pick it up on Monday. Thank you Jim you did excellent.”