The Boar

A full moon is as good a setting as any, but tonight was not a full moon

I went out under its pale light with the axe and waded through the marshes

If you notice the moon is not full, maybe nothing spectacular will happen, good or bad

Right hand gripping the handle, heavy iron dragging behind me through wet grasses and mud

It’s not me who does this, I’m playing the part of someone else

The boar, oblivious, rummaging along the trail of a smaller animal, never saw me coming

Hunter hunted and so forth

I stood and stared at his thick back and legs, snorting and digging horrendously, beautifully

I stood watching, and my eyes became wet with tears

And then, in an instant, it turned and was upon me

Ferociously whining and slashing itself recklessly around my legs

My thigh is slashed, blood pouring down my leg, warm into my boot

Somehow I remain standing

Both hands on the handle, this isn’t what I wanted

But the beast, gone as quickly as it had attacked, went scrambling unseen toward the tree line

Shaking, my body now leaning on the axe as a crutch, I wept

And smiled

Open War Inside Your Own Heart

One last day of comfort, I will be absorbing as much relaxation as possible.  There is a council tomorrow, of which I am the only member.  I have called myself to duty, in order to awaken the warrior king to what is at the bottom of this down hill slide, if I continue to careen downward along dirt and rubble.

Tina’s my girl, she’s the one who soothes me in all kinds of situations, so why not a war?  I sit down like any other Tuesday.  She asks me things like "Are you needing a shave today, Shaw?  Is this for a date or a special occasion?"  I have been trained to appear comfortable when I'm not, but Tina's questions and innocent demeanor disarm me.  I fidget and she tells me to be still, asks me about the Watershed territory, the Marshlands, Coastlands, and the Highlands.  She's a servant to the one true king, but knows I travel and defend these minor regions.  Up until recently, most of the work has consisted of ranger duties, stewarding the land, enforcing small rules with little force.

One of the most effective battle tactics is proper utilization of the spy. A double agent, if allowed in deeply will thoroughly and completely destroy. What if an enemy were allowed access to the deepest and most hidden places of your own heart. What then, Shaw? No amount of tarrying and slashing can touch her now, unless you obliterate your own heart. And you don’t want that, do you?

#tbc

#spilled ink

#war

#warfare

#spy

#heart

The deep night, when the crickets release their grip and we tumble into silence

The sound of deafening emptiness in the room where the fire was

Newspaper and tinder glow orange along the edges against black

There’s a horror at the door

And you, why are you still here?

The broken promise of a girl says to the uninvited

I entered the crossfire willingly, so either evict or end me

There’s a horror at the door

Of Trees and Missing Lovers

Dreaming in deep wood.  What do you see?  The trees are still green, the undergrowth tangled and heavy.  The early sunlight beams descend at a sharp angle, a rich golden fan opening through tall pines.  Brown leaves and needles carpet the path, where there is one.  They crunch dry underfoot, and my companion and I step through the woods carefully on the way to somewhere.  Where exactly, he wonders as he follows me.  And why, I wonder.  If two people speak telepathically in the the forest, does anyone hear?

The trees hear, they always do.  And we hear them, of course.  Lately they've warned us of threats lazily, slow and leisurely for some reason.  Thus far this has not caused us harm, but has stolen the peace we initially carried.  If we can't rely on the trees, we have no advantage, and no chance really.  Unless...

The girl, yes, the next step in the quest is the girl. 

Isthedraagonthegirlisthegirlthedragon??

I haven't seen her since the day of the fall.  The day I let go of it all and toppled literally from atop the safehouse to the harsh outer world.  Though outer world is not correct, as this is not in any way an outer world.  But outside of the lodge and its protection.

That was over three years ago.  I have the feeling that she will return.  Maybe at the point when I display a small increase of wisdom, some evidence of the restoration they claim to be possible here.  I can see her sometimes.  In a tightly woven and well hidden nest of thorns high in the trees.  Glimpses of her, on guard in her part of the woodland.

My thoughts are interrupted abruptly as the trees begin their low chattering.  It is a pleading.  I've heard it once before.  They told me to hide, not to look  Though I would want to, and would love what I saw.

Song of Songs

He searches for her at each reincarnation, all of his days desperate until he finds her 

In this life he found her too late. She had joined with another lover, an intoxicating dark star dripping smooth words like honey.

He: See, I picked a white violet for you

She: Oh, you know too much, you know too much

He: How I adore your garden, its river, its chapel, its tree, its cliffs

She: Each fox is me

He: I hear the River speak your name and it feels like love

She: The Eastern fork is of pure blood, the Four streams converge over my soul

He: Come, steal away with me. We’ll drink deep of love and tell each other secrets.

She: My hair feels like warm rain when it falls on your chest

He: I’ve covered our bed with lilacs and ribbons, meet me tonight

She: My lover calls, I must go

Oh Moon

Devour me, oh Moon, it's you I love best

The sun shines on both of us and we reflect our love for each other

Drink deep of our potion, sweet death will make us immortal

Not yet, let's murder the universe, strangle it's galaxies with anti-science

Flatten the stars onto a single plane and burn it

I am larger than the sun

Look, he's a black hole consuming all other black holes

I eat time and spit light years

I ravage the nebulas with a swirl of my tongue

I wipe the stars into the void with my scaly tail

I couldn't wait for eternity so I made her come with Orion's belt

The multiverse is having a temper tantrum

I hold a séance with black matter and it erupts from my fingers

The moon takes my hands and places them behind my back seductively

I press in for a kiss and the moon pulls away

Hyaline handcuffs click, slowly securing me

Beautiful invisible glass, the whole of me becomes translucent

I am subdued, willingly

I'll be Samson, you be Delilah

Give me over to the Philistines, take me to my fate

My sex is a poor judge, and I am fooled into death

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Healers 5.2

I stood beside Lacy and rinsed dishes as she washed them, watching as her hands worked.  They’re a little on the thin side, not small but very feminine, her nails longish and unpainted.  She handled the dishes quickly but carefully and then handed them to me one by one.  There was a leisurely way about her, casual, but somehow precise and swift and it made me think about how I’ve really never seen her make a mistake.  She handles her life in this same manner, choosing correct paths, never appearing to stumble and never appearing to give things much thought.  Her face never showed the look of pained concentration or effort.  She was one of those people who made everything look easy.  It took me a little work to keep up with her and I was sure I must have looked clumsy next to her carrying out roughly the same task at the same speed.

Kasey was at my left with a towel drying the dishes and placing them on a rack under the cupboards.  She smiled and hummed through her chore merrily, though not with the same grace as Lacy.  “Going to be a full moon tonight,” she announced musically to no one in particular.  “Always makes me alert,” I said.  “Awake and aware.  I always feel cautious anticipation in the air.  On my neck and arms, like I can feel the hair growing.”

Lacy stopped washing for a second and waited.  She knew who would speak next.  “You should pay more attention to that, A,” began Leah.  I turned my head slightly toward her voice, which was behind me near the big windows in the great room overlooking the valley.  “The things about you that you’ve noticed over the years tell your story.  They hold marvelous clues to who you are.  Who you are becoming.”

I sensed she had much more to say, but was holding things back to fit in the small doses that I was currently ready for.  “A full moon?  Is going to tell me who I am?”

“No, A.  Your feelings, your intuition.  Your experiences, everything that has led up to this exact point in time.  Pay attention, don’t let them slip away anymore without giving them proper notice.”

Lacy pulled the drain on her side of the sink and I rinsed the last bowl, passing it to Kasey.  I shook my hands dry and patted them on my jeans in several areas to spread the wetness apart so the spots would dry faster.  “We’ve got towels, you know,” chimed Kasey.  Lacy’s head dropped slightly and I saw the corner of her lip curl into a faint smile as she turned and walked back toward the dinner table.  She sat and poured red wine into a small glass with a cicada painted onto it.

I walked over to the big glass wall of windows and took in the view, standing next to Leah who was staring out into the distance.  She could have been anywhere just then.  I wondered what this sage girl was thinking.  I realized that if I stayed, I’d be thinking that thought quite a lot.  “How much do you know about us?”  She asked, her voice low.  I could almost feel her physically, though she was two feet away. “Well, I don’t know much, really.  I understand you do some pretty amazing things and that this is a kind of special place and that you guys do some kind of finding or helping or fixing through something involving… collective thought?  I’m sure that’s painfully wrong, but…”

“Stop.”  She paused and the whole room felt suddenly void, like a vacuum.  The air felt as though it had been pulled away from my body.  The lights seemed to dim and it contrasted with the remaining light outside, making it seem brighter on the other side of the windows.  The sun was large and had nearly reached the tree line in the distance as I looked outward into the valley.  The sky was colored with pale shades of orange and purple, with thinly scattered clouds spotting the panorama.  “Close your eyes.”  I did as she said and took a deep breath which seemed to flutter across my nerves as it entered my lungs.  “Now open.”  I did and felt breeze on my face coming from the valley.  The windows were gone.  I gasped and took a couple big steps back as I realized suddenly how far the drop was.

Leah remained still, her ever dilated pupils gazing forward as she stood a foot from what was now a very intimidating precipice.  “Athan.”

“Yes,” I said with hesitation.

“Get a running start. And jump.”

My heart shocked itself.  A prickly jolt shot through me.  Because while I didn’t know Leah very well, I knew she did not joke.  What happened next was different than anything I could ever remember, although it was completely familiar.  I turned calm.  A feeling came over me, a feeling or maybe a knowing.  I felt powerful.  I knew without doubt that there was a deep reservoir of strength of some kind within me.  And I understood in a flash what eternity meant.  My face went blank and I could feel my eyes narrowing and blood flow increasing in my whole head.  I probably looked like I was meditating, but I was fully lucid.  There remained in my being the feeling of pain.  There was still plenty of hurt.  It was confusing to have all this come upon me all at once and I had a brief thought of attempting to reconcile these things when I felt my legs moving, and fast.

I sprinted in four big steps and leaped as far as I could through the opening out toward the valley.  Out toward death that would meet me at the bottom.  I thought I might float away, or hoped I might.  But my body was heavy and gravity was pulling me.  In mid air my eyes closed and then opened again to see a deck being formed below me.  A board at a time shooting into place at lightning speed from God knows where.  My feet hit the solid deck that wasn’t there a second before and I fell and tumbled forward to a railing that was still being built even as I was rolling over the boards.  I came to a stop in utter shock and popped up to my feet, unharmed.

I looked around quickly, my eyes wide now like a little kid.  I let out a tribal scream as loud as I’ve ever yelled and dropped to my knees, arms raised, hands in tight fists.  I felt Leah’s footsteps coming up behind me and she went around me and leaned on the railing, giving me a giddy smile.  She pushed the railing open behind her as if it were on hinges.  Again, a huge drop.  Still just as intimidating, somehow.  She looked down at me, back to the valley with her feet on the very edge of the deck.  Something in me desperately wanted her to hold the part of the solid railing on either side of her.  She didn’t.  Instead, she took a step backward, while the deck formed underneath her foot.  Then another, and more deck to hold her up.  Then another, and another.  I noticed that the deck under her had cross beams to support the boards, but there was nothing holding it up.  She sat down at the edge without looking and folded her legs into her lap.  “C’mon,” she said and smiled again as she turned to let her legs dangle off the deck.  With that, she lifted herself up as if to drop off the deck and as she started to fall, a shiny, flat metal piece began to form.  Her bottom rested on it and it headed downward, a huge slide, and she was on it, racing into the valley.  I crawled forward and hopped on the slide, pursuing her.  She was in front of me and I heard her scream in delight.  My own exhilaration came over me and I let out let another adrenaline filled cry, echoing off the trees as I picked up speed down the slide.  We were absolutely racing, the valley a blur except what was in front of me, my eyes were watering from the wind speed and I could hardly see at all.

As I approached the bottom, I could see that the slide was going directly into, or rather onto the top of the river.  Leah’s body slowed as she hit the several inches covering the slide with the water spraying out to her sides and behind her.  She made it across to the shore where the river bends and I followed behind, shooting through the water and slowing to a stop on the sandy bank in front of her.

I stood up, partly in disbelief, but mostly excited.  I wanted to say something about how amazing that just was, but something about being in her presence made me hold my words.  She walked a few steps in silence and sat down, facing the river and the sun, which from down here was behind the trees.  I paced around, letting my electric energy cool down, admiring the massive trees and sound of moving water.  I looked up at the lodge, perched high upon the mountain and the slide that ran down it.  “How does it stay up?” I asked.  There aren’t enough supports to hold it in place.”

“Supports?  There’s plenty of support.  Just not the kind you’re used to seeing.  Belief can be stronger than wood and metal.”  She let the concept sink in and perhaps waited for another question, which I didn’t offer.  “Now, stop believing, and watch it all fall away.”  The slide and deck started to crumble.  I expected a thundering crash, but there was none.  Everything vanished from sight as it fell.  Part of me was sad, though I knew that wasn’t the lesson here.

“Keep looking, Athan.  Was it ever even there?  How did we get down here?”

I was blown away.  Actually, I was more like really bothered.  I paced around and kept looking back up the mountain at the lodge.  The smaller deck and stairs was still there and meandered all the way to the river a short distance from us.

“Athan.”

“Yea,” I responded in a soft, but blunt tone.

“You jumped.”

“I did?  What?”

“You jumped.  You jumped through the window.  Why?”

“God.  Oh, God.  Yea.  I sure did.  Why.  Yes, well I guess I didn’t think you guys would let me die on my first day here.”  She waited as if to let me know she wasn’t satisfied with that answer.  “And well, cause fuck it, that’s why.  Fuck it, Leah.  Part of me up there didn’t really care if I died.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“How do I feel now?  Ha.  Hell, I feel damn great.  Physiologically, I do.  But I can tell there’s shit in me that’s still there.  Lingering inside me.  It’s not gone.”

“Let’s go back up, Athan.”

“What, that’s it?”

“Your answers are here.  In you and around you.  This place will help you find them.  Understand that we don’t take your hand and drag you to what you need.  Keep paying attention.  Let yourself pour over what you’ve experienced today and what has been said.  Let yourself go into the places you’re hiding from.  Allow yourself the freedom to examine the things you know about yourself.  Full moons, petrified wood, pinned moths, red candles.  You know these things, you know what they are, but you need to find out what they’re for.”

The Boar

A full moon is as good a setting as any, but tonight was not a full moon

I went out under its pale light with the axe and waded through the marshes

If you notice the moon is not full, maybe nothing spectacular will happen, good or bad

Right hand gripping the handle, heavy iron dragging behind me through wet grasses and mud

It’s not me who does this, I’m playing the part of someone else

The boar, oblivious, rummaging along the trail of a smaller animal, never saw me coming

Hunter hunted and so forth

I stood and stared at his thick back and legs, snorting and digging horrendously, beautifully

I stood watching, and my eyes became wet with tears

And then, in an instant, it turned and was upon me

Ferociously whining and slashing itself recklessly around my legs

My thigh is slashed, blood pouring down my leg, warm into my boot

Somehow I remain standing

Both hands on the handle, this isn’t what I wanted

But the beast, gone as quickly as it had attacked, went scrambling unseen toward the tree line

Shaking, my body now leaning on the axe as a crutch, I wept

And smiled

Mexico

Deep into a bottle of tequila, looking for answers, but not too hard. This place is dark and dusty like everything down here. Dust and haze don’t need any help from tequila. The last time here... I smile into my glass and pour another. Golden fire. Maybe releasing inhibition will release the truth. Because I usually avoid truth at all cost. Truth traded for pleasant fiction, definitions for gut instinct.

The last time here it was on the downhill side of love. The car broke down in a little fishing town on the peninsula. In the village I arranged for car repairs and when I came back to get her she was on a picnic table teaching Catholic prayers to a little girl in a green dress.

Everything she did was magical like that. How can anyone hold a woman like her? No one can. I definitely couldn’t. But this is a business trip. No, it’s a fucking quest. I understood that I was thinking sloppily, but I need this documented. I’ve put forth too much setup into this with little actual purpose. So yes. Where are we headed here? American dollars can go a long way in Mexico until you reveal that you have them. And if you have a penchant for drugs and drink, well then. Well then you end up in the corner of a cheap bar mumbling “una cerveza y una tequila” over and over again until your wallet is empty. At a certain point, I realized I was no longer drinking myself out of despair, but drinking for despair. That I didn't even want her back, I was just hooked on the feeling of being empty and vacant inside. Addicted to the mix of brain chemicals that resulted when I went over and over every single mundane memory of her, just to feel pain. A very specific, sadistic brand of pain. The bartender flicks the lights off and on again. It is my signal to go home, the last remaining customer. I stand, wobbling and leave a handful of bills on the table without counting. I shuffle out with my head down, breathing, I think. I look up to meet his knowing nod, and slip out into the deserted streets.

Pale Horse Joust

The grip of a stung gull leaves nothing where it was, where it was.

Hammers on one side, feathers and poetry on the other.

The end was foretold and all that is left now is to fill the story lines with detail of the duel. Two brothers, both gone far astray, one or none will remain.

Where’s the demented sage? His commentary would be useful now, highly entertaining.  Bring back Pale! they chanted.  Hairs stand on top of goose bumps in anticipation.  The law will summon him if it is indeed true.

A beam of light shines down.  We see nothing, the light remains.  The seers see, the believers believe.  Here he is, he’s been right here all along.  Necks careen, and the seers see.

Pity is for the weak, self loathing is the most pathetic symptom to be exhibited, he proclaims. Buckets of rain douse the the stage, the antagonist withers, vanishes into the ground.

It is just what he wants. Attention and fuel for an ego meant to be extinguished a long time ago. It was an experiment, now threats keep him alive.  If the world cannot refrain of disdain for even one hour, he shall remain eternal in his vortex, unharmed.

Mouth open, every drop from the waterfall devoured. Become rage, Athan, become rage.

Ghostly visions, are there any other kind

Wretched lover standing, bloodied knife in her hand

Hate me, though you might

You won’t kill me

I’m the ghost in your head tonight

You're not doing anything, let's pretend we're in love

Do the things lovers might do

Talk about our dreams

Listen to records

Recite poetry

Lie on the grass and gaze at cloud formations

Read each other's palms

Collect wildflowers and put them in a vase

Gaze into each other's eyes

Kiss

And then pretend it never happened

Pretend really hard

What is the good in goodbye?

We're both still here. And besides,

Nothing happened.

The Big Uncandy Mountain

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains There's a land that's fair and bright Where the handouts grow on bushes And you sleep out every night

Where the boxcars all are empty And the sun shines every day And the birds and the bees And the cigarette trees

The lemonade springs Where the bluebird sings In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

Harry went on and on like this, listing off the great aspects of a utopian hobo world where everything was free and only good things happened.

Shut up Harry. That's not what we're talking about. It's Uncanny Mountain, you jackass. We're talking Das Unheimlich, remember, Freud talked about how scenic and beautiful...

OHHHH, sure, YOU"RE sophisticated if you mention Freud, I'm just a simpleton who quotes ole timey tunes that doesn't get to offer opinions.

Harry, don't interrupt me, you only like that song because you heard it in Oh Brother.

Yea? Yea? Well, yea, but it still doesn't make your comment acceptable. I'll bet you'd shut the hell up of I brought up Questionable Research Practices and statistical patterns of the Uncanny p-Mountains. And how low power is not a sufficient explanation for them. Statistically speaking.

They argue long into the night and eventually slip and tumble down the uncanny mountain to their death.

A Girl, A River

Susurrations, perforations of the heart

Tiny tears in arterial walls

Broken heart, broken lungs

The place where we used to go, the place where she was

It doesn’t exist anymore, it’s over kid.

Go home.

Her name whispers like a river

She is the river

Little Birds

Whose feathers shall we ruffle?

Fluffy pink and green cotton

Slicked back down with pomade

Remember who did this to you

A long way down, indeed

From the old Healers series

Healers Part ?.?

And then he died, he died.  The ides is fine for you, fine to pretend all over yourself with.  But some of us like pi.  A tepid effort at hiding, yet wanting to share the secrets.  Every last one.  All for you.  Secrets you resent, secrets I made you hate.  First times, over and over until we stopped.  You’re not listening, neither am I.  Alter egos and characters allow a certain arrogance that doesn’t appear to the untrained observer.  If you can remove it, then it’s not your arrogance, not your jealousy, not your indifference, not your hate.  But keep the good parts, own them.  And then he died.  Unfinished, never to be reconciled.

Loose ends unraveling in a downdraft.

At a certain height, you barely need to flap, you can soar eternally under the current of air like the hand of God with a paper airplane pushing it along in slow motion.  Lamp light and shadow on the ceiling.  All this realized, recycled, and regurgitated forever until the drafts die, when the earth dies, or when a more potent force is loosed to shake the cars off the tracks.  A more unnatural way of conveyance.  More worldly, less visceral, less pensive and damaging.  Less alive.

And he did stand on the edge, on the precipice.

Irrational force, synthetic faith to catch him when he lets go.  The windows were still gone and the others watched him there.  Grey sky and mist filled air blocked the visibility into the valley and coated his expressionless face with droplets as he stood.  The air was silent and mostly still, but for a few breezes up from below.  Stale salmon and wood smoke hung damp in the lodge.

If they leave, will the faith depart with them?  Two women and the girl rose and walked from the room.  It’s a long way down.  The lamb watched, motionless in the heavy silence.  Tears dripped from his eyes and streamed into his beard.  Do I make everything about me?  Does everybody know?  Why do people let me wreck myself over and over and then leave?  Are you no longer amused?

Because, you know… this is as close to the real me as there is.  And he saw the truth.  And he let go, falling forward and releasing muscles to limp relaxation.  Eyes partly open: unfocused and calm slits seeing trees and air and structure tumble kaleidoscopically.  A flywheel of arms and legs careened bleeding, hard off the tree limbs.  Pain struck and it seemed that hurt was the only thing remaining, the last thing in the world that had any care.  Another limb pounded the back of his neck and he dropped straight down.  Blood filled his eyes and all turned to black.  The speed of descent blew cold against his face until the bottom hit, an unforgiving collapse of tissue and bone on pine needled forest floor.

And then he died.

***

Healers - Part 1.0 (The Chase)

I’m not a writer, but this came to me in a dream.  I’ve transcribed it to the best of my ability.  There are 6 or 7 parts so far.

An eyeful of dreams rotated from forefront to behind, though still at the surface of my mind.  A thick blur blanketed the morning as I struggled to awaken.  This would be the filter of the day.  A hazy washout glazing my vision, graying out clarity between what is and what isn’t.  A part of me has stayed behind, refusing to engage in the physical world and the reaction to it by my senses.  I pause now, unsure if I have just awakened or haven’t slept at all.  Or if I’m still asleep.

The over-sized carport opens up into a covered breezeway to the lodge.  The floor is covered in large square tiles made of limestone and separated by wooden planks in a grid pattern.  The walls are made from cedar planks, generous windows on the sides.  Looking behind me, there is no wall.  An opening, three cars wide to allow anything to come or go.

There is no driveway, just a long road that goes nowhere.  Except here.  Mammoth sequoias line the road.  Only ferns and broad leafed foliage can collect enough sun to survive underneath them.

It seems we’re running.  I’m driving fast and paranoid from the danger presumably pursuing us from the bullfight.

***

Ernesto’s glory days were behind him, that’s for sure.  The formerly great matador still carried himself with pomp and swagger.  His black and silver sequined outfit demanded it, and he was more than eager to deliver on it.  The wall had been removed from the ring today.  I sat in the front row with Lacy.  She looked pretty and well kept as always and was dressed in a nice pair of navy shorts, a preppy white blouse, and some expensive sandals.  She looked older than I remembered.  And somehow friendlier.  The crowd was sparse, as is usually the case for a matinee.  Ernesto strutted over to me before the show was to begin and wedged himself between Lacy and me.  He was looking at me and then whispered into my ear.  Inappropriately close and almost intimate, like a lover might.  His breath was rancid and I was glad when he stood up and stepped away.  He laughed loud enough for everyone to hear, making a show of the fact that he thought he had just told me something of great amusement.  “He is so disgusting,” Lacy whispered.

“Yea, you’re not the one who had to smell his breath.”

I felt a pinch on my ear.  “Amigo.”  Long pause.  “Show some respect,” came the slow Spanish accented voice from behind me.  “Who the fuck are you, huh?  HUH?”

Lacy’s eyes were bigger than normal which is really saying a lot, as her eyes always were big and beautiful.  One of about a hundred reasons that I was secretly in love with her.  I was more annoyed than afraid. I pulled my head slowly away to release the fingers that held me.  I turned and looked.  There were three men, all of them with dreadful stares.  The man directly behind me was dirty and unkept with dark hair draped loosely over his eyes, the other two with lighter hair, thinner and taller, and less Spanish looking then their counterpart.  They carried solemn, serious faces and looked hard into me in a way that I could almost feel something actual and physical penetrating my body.

I looked them down, stood and took Lacy’s hand.  “C’mon.”

We exited slowly up the steps.  The stares felt like burns in my back.  When we reached the concession area there was a big group of men dressed in old football uniforms with leather helmets.  The place was open and uncovered, but presumably fenced in somewhere beyond my view. I realized that I didn’t remember coming in.  A group of several dozen people were chanting “Hold that line” and the chants grew louder as their number grew.  Today was the day the coach would be making his final cuts.  There were wooden folding chairs in a line, apparently one designated for each player.  I was asked to light them all on fire at the bottoms of the legs “To the best of your ability, don’t spare a single one,” the coach said to me.  I nodded my head and did as he asked.  It took only about a minute for all the chairs to become completely engulfed in orange fire, as the wood was porous and very flammable.  Lacy tugged at my arm indicating it was time to go.  Someone wanted us out of there.  I was oblivious, but she knew.  I turned and saw a posse forming at the portal to the ring.  The three men were yelling to each other and to the others that had gathered, everyone’s heads careening around hastily trying to spot us.  

“Whoa, wait a minute.  We’re not leaving.  I haven’t done anything and I’m damn sure not in the mood for running away.”

“A, there might be more happening than you know here,” she said in a curt, cautious tone.  “More than you might recollect or understand.”

I let a nervous “ha” slip from my mouth.  But settling down on me was a familiar realization, the one you get when you’ve been found out. I’ve had it more often than I’m proud to admit.  The hair on my neck stood stiff like hackles, they were coming for me.

We walked briskly, staying roughly on a line to an exit that kept the fire between us and the portal, hoping that it would block their view. When we got out the door Lacy ran top speed to the car, which was an amusing sight for my normally proper and calm friend.

We had left the top down on the old, white Carerra and both of us leaped over our doors into the car.  I thought us inconspicuous but for the loud engine, and didn’t see anyone following from behind.  To the right was a covered walkway separating two parking lots, which I presumed was used during the rains.  I had heard people talk about the sudden storms and floods here, but it was always arid and dusty whenever I had visited.

As we approached the end of the walkway, a red Bronco pulled out from behind it and turned to face us.  I braked and saw the dark haired guy from the arena behind the wheel, one of his sandy haired companions in the passenger seat.  We made eye contact and I heard his motor rev.  At the same time, instinctively, I threw the car into reverse and flew backward a few hundred feet and turned hard into an perpendicular aisle, almost losing control.  There was not enough time to make an attempt at going forward, as the Bronco was nearly on our front bumper.  I kept flooring it in reverse, the engine whining hard and made another fierce turn at the next aisle.  In just a split second I was able to throw it into first and spin out forward, the Bronco just missing slamming into the side of us as it spun around the turn close behind.  I heard a crashing sound and in my rear view mirror saw that they had clipped a couple parked cars making their turn.  I focused, gripping the wheel with clenched hands, made a few quick rights and lefts, darting in and out of rows of cars.  With Lacy bouncing and swaying in her adjacent bucket seat, we made it to the exit and cut hard right onto the main road, spinning wheels as I threw it into second gear.

I floored it and quickly put some distance between us and our pursuers.  But just ahead there was some traffic coming up and cars stacked about five deep in front of a red light.  There was no oncoming traffic, so I swerved into the oncoming lane and looked frantically both ways and then darted left at the traffic signal through the red light just between two cars.  I almost hit the one that I squeezed in front of and the driver laid on the horn.  I felt sweat on my chest and looked back to see the Bronco stopped at the light, but forcing its way through, lots of cars stopping and starting, all of them honking at them.

I floored the Carerra again and quickly got it up to about 90, which was pretty fast for a commercial area.  Thankfully there were not many cars around.  Lacy held her hands in tight fists raised just above her thighs and I could see that she was shaking.  I thought of saying something light hearted, but didn’t.  The exit ramp to the freeway was just ahead and a swerved around the car in my adjacent lane and took it.  I had put maybe a quarter mile of space ahead of the Bronco and pushed the car faster.  On the freeway I got up to 130 without much trouble. Within five minutes I couldn’t see them at all.

“Any one of these exits can get us to the woods,” Lacy said flatly. We were headed north, desert all around except to the west, where there were tree lines and hills in the distance.  I took the next off ramp and left under the bridge onto a two lane road.  The road was dead straight, presumably a straight shot into the trees.  I drove fast, but not at an unreasonable pace, the sun dropping in front of us just left of center.

At the entrance through the line of trees, the forest swallowed us immediately.  The road seemed to turn old, there were no signs, no lines on the cracking pavement.  The Carerra was reasonably equipped to handle the narrow and winding roads through this mature forest.  I should have been nervous, but I felt a calm certainty in my body and soon forgot about our pursuers.  The top was down on this warm, comfortable day but I looked up to see almost no sky at all.  Just late afternoon light flickering through the giant trees.  A thought passed my mind that there are mini ecosystems high up in those branches.  Evolved species that live hundreds of feet up in the air, never to touch solid ground.  Rodents and bugs and other plants that grow out of the over sized branches.  My next thought was how I would be able to navigate without being able to see the stars tonight.  This is how the mind of a runaway operates.  Curious, creative at times, and always looking for exit signs.

“Left ahead,” she said, breaking my thoughts.  I nodded and followed her directions.  These were her woods, not mine.

“Protectors, Athan.  They’ve watched your every step.  They guard and defend without care as to who is right or wrong.  I know you know this, but you’re acting like you don’t.  You have to be careful.  You’ve got to keep your distance no matter how tempted you are.”

I sighed as a flood of memories rose like flood waters in me. Unwanted, invasive, inescapable memories.  “God dammit.”  I felt betrayed.  I wanted to fight, to kill.  But the numbers were stacked against me, not to mention otherworldly forces they wield.  A band of brothers designed to protect the deity I left behind.  I had been allowed in, ushered in, actually.  Allowed to be loved and to love back.  It was real, all of it real, and then somehow it went horrendously wrong.  There were a thousand ways to blame myself, and yet another thousand to blame.  Looking back, I could see now that everywhere there was a guardian.  In the woods a vulture and black wolf, in the castle a host of magicians and dragons.  All kinds of defense mechanisms, alter beings designed to force me into a mold or to force me out.  I left willingly without a word.  Maybe that was not acceptable.

***