EPISODIC NARRATIVES


THE BEAR

While driving to northern towns the sun was going away and a black bear ran across the road. I had never seen a bear before and was amazed and delighted and felt lucky. The speed at which it lumbered across there was fantastic and the beloved said it was a cub, but I thought it was a small adult or adolescent. Then, the sun went further down, and the constellations began to come out. The small corner stores were closed and it all felt nice enough but a bit lonely as the summer had gone away and the bear had gone away and many souls from the past I thought had gone away and even died.

FIRE AND BEACON IN THE NIGHT

There was a large fire, and the flames danced out like the flames of medusa’s hair. There were also sparks and pieces of ash that wafted my way slowly, like orbs, like bits of strange small souls from other worlds borne and then travelling. The fire was surrounded by brick and by the thick night black and smoky and still. Sometimes a car would pass on the far away one-lane road and its lights were also lonesome and sad,- heading I think south, back from adventures, or just some local vehicle not really going anywhere. One time one of the souls around the fire said that a light was in the distance that didn’t belong there. For a moment I hoped it was a spaceship, - this single red light, somehow unlike a brake light, - glowing in the field. It was determined to the best of our knowledge that it was probably a beacon and someone had mentioned they saw it from the water now and again. But, - I still chose to think at the least; about 1950’styled flying saucers and little beings from other worlds.

THE LEMURIAN SOULS OF THE FOREST PATH

Three of them waiting at the top. Not really anything out of the ordinary but I say Lemurian because I equate that with gentleness. It was a mother and father and a grown son, and they asked polite and genuine questions about the dogs as we climbed out from a deep and magical valley floor strewn with mushrooms, moss, rocks, toppled trees, insects, bees, squirrels, chipmunks, frogs, snakes, and some vibratory or atmospheric quality that is high, untouched, unhampered, pure, like in a fairy tale story. They wanted to know their age, gender, habits, place of origin, and so on. We talked and shared stories for a while and they thanked me and continued their nature walk. I went around a big loop and then out further and was eventually alone near the sandpit, the open spaces, the curved walkway, the edge of the forest, the far edge,- and it felt,- quite nicely,- the past people and civilization,- no signs, things, asphalt,- no screens, vehicles, advertisements,- nothing save for the trees and flaxen field and the two pieces of old machinery that was rust red and looked to be from the 1940’s or something.

THE LITTLE BRIDGE OVER THE WATER

We took a long way back,- and walked through a part of the shaded forest that goes even past the valley floor,- there were some pieces of cement and an old abandoned car,- the shell of one anyhow, along with root systems, a dead bird that something had killed and eaten most of, and the regular artifacts like the sun shining through the tops of trees, the different species of mushrooms, the calls of distant birds. At one point I thought there was something in the forest but it could have been a squirrel. When it does get somewhat quiet and still,- a squirrel coming through the trees can sound much larger and make much fuss when ruffled, disturbed, or simply travelling from one place to the next during his or her morning. At the bridge, the water spiders could be seen, and the sun reflected off the black pools of water in what was fast becoming the hot and early afternoon. Staying there for a bit, - the sky and the terrene earth was surveyed and felt and thought about. A nice mixture around there of day and shade and pebble and river rock…a merriment of forest birds and ground that has sand, dirt, pine needles, ants, spiders, slopes and gradients and more.

I went momentarily to the side of the place and peered into the forest having parted two branches like opening a book with two hands. Darkness and a bit of light, more twigs and leaves and foliage and cricket song. I could see that that is where the little river came from, and was quietly making its way out and then under the little man-made hand-made wooden plank bridge in the middle of nowhere.




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