Want (A Poem)

I want to be
wild –
to roar at the sky
and sing with the wind,
to bloom alongside the flowers
and reach like the trees.
I want to be
free –
to think in cycles
and centuries,
and dance with the darkest memories,
and shine like the brightest stars.
I want to
see –
to feel it all,
hold it all,
to cradle it
here in the palm of my hand,
and know that I know
so little,
and everything.

Drenched (A Poem)

Rain, rain, rain
through April to May –
could it be you’re here to stay?
It certainly feels that way.

************

Yes, friends, it’s yet another rainy day, and it’s set to be a rainy weekend. I like rainy weather – it’s good for book-reading and tea-sipping and nap-taking. But…it would be nice to see some blue skies for more than a few hours at a time between rain clouds. I shouldn’t complain, though. Everything is so lusciously, livingly green.

If the weather keeps this up, it’s going to be a very vibrant summer.

In Search (A Short Story)

Two local men missing since April 15th. No leads. Parents plead for information.

*

I don’t like the term “monster hunt.” Humans can be monsters, but everyone goes on and on about Bigfoot. Spare me. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We set out around noon on the first warm day of spring. There were two of us. There was me, and there was Ty, my best friend. Ty carried the map, the tent, the food, all the other “useful stuff” (his words), and the dog’s leash. So, I guess there were actually three of us – Ty, me, and Septimus.

I asked Ty once why he named the dog Septimus.

“Because,” he said, “he looked like a Septimus. Just look at him”

In front of us now, walking up the trail into the woods, Septimus sniffed and explored, nose to the ground with his floppy, pendulum ears dangling into the leafy brush, drool trailing along behind him in a silvery, viscous path. He didn’t carry anything.

I held the camera.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to find,” Ty said, craning his neck around to get a glimpse of me behind him. “And I don’t want to be in whatever video you make when this is over.”

“‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep…’” I replied.

“You didn’t come up with that.”

“No,” I said, “that was Robert Frost. But it makes my point.”

“Which is?”

Ty walked on ahead.

“Which is,” I said to his back, “that you’ll never find anything if you don’t go looking, and there’s no place like the deep, dark woods to get started.”

“I think they made a movie about that once,” Ty said. “But seriously, it’s a good thing I came with you. You’d get lost looking for fairies and we’d find you half-starved and crazy two days later.”

“I can read a map,” I said.

“No, you really can’t.”

“What are you even complaining about? You love this stuff.”

Ty loved the outdoors the way that some people love cake. He couldn’t get enough, even it meant too much outdoors and not enough paycheck.

“Monster hunting?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” I said. “Hiking and camping and stuff.”

And thank goodness he did love the outdoors, because I wouldn’t have wanted to do this kind of thing without him, it being my first monster hunt and all. Ty and I had done everything together since he taught me how to catch grasshoppers in kindergarten, a lesson my mother was never particularly fond of. I’d always been the reader, the researcher, and monsters – fairies, pixies, Bigfoots, Wampus Cats, selkies – they were my first love.

“This is my best friend, Drew,” Ty always said when he introduced me. “He’s a weirdo.”

Over the years, I’d come to embrace my weirdness, but I’d never felt quite bold enough to do anything about it. That changed last week, when a couple of day hikers spotted strange lights on the Dragon’s Den trail. They also reported odd noises, footsteps and rumbles from the woods, from all around them.  

“Come on, man,” I said. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“In the backpack,” Ty answered. “Along with your toothbrush and the three books you insisted on bringing for one night.”

“Knowledge is power,” I said. Because that was true.

*

Missing:

Tyson Collins, age 26

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Brown

Height: 5’11”

Weight: 180 pounds

Andrew Miller, age 26

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Green

Height: 5’10”

Weight: 175 pounds

Last seen at the Dragon’s Den trailhead, Saturday, April 15, at 11:45 a.m. Traveling with one dog, a red bloodhound. Please contact….

*

We set up camp that night about a mile from the trail, which Ty said was already pushing it. Ty dealt with the tent, while I found a good spot for the camp stove and took out the dinner supplies.

“You’re not supposed to go off trail in these places,” he told me. “It damages the forest floor.”

“I think it’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s just the two of us.”

From his perch beside Ty, Septimus howled.

“And the dog,” I added.

“Still, they have designated spots for camping.”

“Those places are too crowded,” I said. “We’d never see anything.”

“We’re breaking the rules,” Ty answered, flat and short.

“And I’m catching it all on camera,” I joked, and snapped a picture from across the camp stove.

Ty set about making dinner, a box of Velveeta shells and cheese, while I rummaged around in the backpack for my book on mountain legends.

“I bet it was just a bear,” I said.

“So you brought us all the way out here to look for it?”

Ty stirred the cheese sauce into the noodles. Septimus drooled beside him. He spooned two heaping portions into our plastic bowls, and handed one to me.

“I mean, I don’t want it to be just a bear.”

“Make sure Septimus doesn’t eat my dinner,” Ty said.

I stared at Septimus as Ty wandered off into the woods.

“I hate peeing in the woods,” I told the dog. “Probably a luxury experience for you, huh? New and different?”

Septimus panted back at me.

From somewhere to my right, Ty yelled, “Stop it, man!”

“Stop what?” I called back.

“Stop messing with me!”

“I’m just sitting by the campfire, dude. I’m watching the dog like you asked.”

Ty came back a couple of minutes later.

“Not cool, Drew,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Septimus didn’t touch your food.”

“Walking up behind me that way,” Ty said. “The footsteps. I know you’re trying to scare me.”

“Wait,” I said, and choked down my last bite of pasta. “You heard footsteps?”

“Yeah,” Ty answered, “and I know it was you.”

“It wasn’t me, but we have to go check it out.”

I stood up and grabbed the camera. Ty didn’t move.

“No,” he said. “We don’t, and we shouldn’t.”

“Ty, that’s why we’re out here!”

“If it wasn’t you,” he said, “then it was probably a bear, and it probably smelled our food, and we should probably just leave it alone.”

“But…” I started.

“Unless you want to be mauled by a bear,” Ty finished.

“Fine,” I said. “Just, fine. But if it happens again, I’m going to go look, and you’re not going to stop me.”

Ty let out a puff of air, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “It’s late. We should just get some sleep.”

I wasn’t about to argue with Ty in a bad mood. I’d learned years ago that it wouldn’t work. And so we pulled out our sleeping bags and crawled into the tent.

“You gonna brush your teeth?” he asked me.

I glared back at him, unsure if he could see it in the dark.

“Okay, then,” he said.

We settled in, boots off and tucked into a corner, with Septimus nestled between us, already snoring.

*

Tracks found in search for two missing locals. No sign of belongings or human remains. Parents still hopeful. Reward offered for any information.

*

I awoke to the high-pitched sound of Septimus whining in the dark. Outside, something stirred near our campsite. I could hear the twigs snapping, the underbrush rustling, and if I strained my ears enough, I was pretty sure, something breathing.

“Ty,” I croaked.

My heart raced, and my hands shook. I wasn’t sure whether this was fear or excitement.

“Ty,” I said again, louder this time. “We have to go look.”

Ty rolled over and said, “Leave it alone, Drew.”

“No,” I yelled. “I won’t. I told you if we heard anything else, I’d go and look, and I’m going to.”

I squirmed out of my sleeping bag and pulled on my hiking boots.

“You’re being stupid,” Ty said.

“No, I’m investigating.”

I grabbed the camera, pulled its strap around my neck, unzipped the tent flap and flung it open. Before I could catch him, Septimus shot out like a rocket, barking and snarling, more aggressive than I’d ever seen him. And certainly faster.  

Ty was up in milliseconds, pulling on his own boots, huffing and glaring at me.

“We have to get Septimus,” he said.

And then we both ran, out into the woods, away from the tent and into the night.

“I thought you said I was being stupid,” I grunted out, between breaths.

“That’s my dog, man,” Ty answered.

We could still hear the bloodhound, somewhere ahead of us, howling wildly into the trees. And all around us, just like the hikers said, we heard other things, strange grunts and heavy breathing, the sharp crack of branches breaking.

“What is that?” I yelled.

Ty ran ahead of me, and I struggled to keep up. The camera banged into my chest with every step.

“Slow down, Ty!”

Ty broke into a clearing ahead of me. He stopped so abruptly, I ran into him. Septimus sat at his feet, entranced.

I saw lights. So many lights. Dancing in the tree line, lighting up the sky. Lights, and something else. Something big, twisted, looming, waiting. Something…

“Oh, my God,” I breathed.

I raised the camera to my eye.

*

Found, 1 mile from Dragon’s Den Trail, marker 10:

1 camera, Pentax K3, damaged, SD card intact

1 dog leash, blue

*

I don’t like the term “monster hunt.” You think you’re hunting them. You’re wrong.

**********

Thank you for reading! This is the fourth of twelve stories I’ll write as part of my 2022 Short Story Challenge. Twelve months, twelve stories, and the theme this year is: Folklore

Here are the first three, if you’d like to read them:

The Winter Woman

The Lady in the Stars

Silly Superstitions

I hope you join me in the challenge! I think it’s going to be a very good year for stories. But just reading is good, too, and I’m glad you’re here.

The next story will be posted at the end of May.

April’s Short Story

It’ll be up tomorrow! In the meantime, here’s a preview. Enjoy!

**********

I don’t like the term “monster hunt.” Humans can be monsters, but everyone goes on and on about Bigfoot. Spare me. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We set out around noon on the first warm day of spring. There were two of us. There was me, and there was Ty, my best friend. Ty carried the map, the tent, the food, all the other “useful stuff” (his words), and the dog’s leash. So, I guess there were actually three of us – Ty, me, and Septimus.

I asked Ty once why he named the dog Septimus.

“Because,” he said, “he looked like a Septimus. Just look at him”

In front of us now, walking up the trail into the woods, Septimus sniffed and explored, nose to the ground with his floppy, pendulum ears dangling into the leafy brush, drool trailing along behind him in a silvery, viscous path. He didn’t carry anything.

I held the camera.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to find,” Ty said, craning his neck around to get a glimpse of me behind him. “And I don’t want to be in whatever video you make when this is over.”

“‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep…’” I replied.

“You didn’t come up with that.”

“No,” I said, “that was Robert Frost. But it makes my point.”

“Which is?”

Ty walked on ahead.

“Which is,” I said, “that you’ll never find anything if you don’t go looking, and there’s no place like the deep, dark woods to get started.”

Our Only Place (A Poem for Earth Day, 2022)

Home,
and more.
Mother and Maker,
from the good dirt
to the blue water,
the mountain
to the shore,
this place is ours.
Our only place,
from solid ground
to deepest sea,
to be.
In all of space
and time,
this earth
belongs to us,
nurtures us,
gives to us
and takes,
brings life and death
and all things between.
And in turn,
we belong –
to land and sky,
to ocean and sand,
to each other
and this planet.
How great
and terrible
a lesson to learn:
that here,
we have
everything.

Bloom (A Poem)

All things have
(and take)
their time –
to go fallow
and then rise
from root to sky,
to bloom and grow.
Nature shows us –
there is no shame
in a patient cycle of
quiet moments
and many tries.

Trying out a totally new poetry form!

Here’s another one for the monthly poetry challenge over at Fake Flamenco. April’s challenge is to write a Prime Verse – a brand new form – around a theme of the wonder of experiencing the universe or the earth.

Here’s mine:

Look at the night sky –

the moon, stars, and velvet dark –

and know: you’re looking out, into, on, not up.

Do you tremble to be small?

Does it frighten you?

Or, instead, do you marvel,

find wonder, splendor, in the vastness of it?

Look at the night sky

and know: a whole world, the universe, is nigh.

I love this form that Rebecca has created! It’s got a nice ebb and flow, and feels just really fluid and lyrical. And of course, the theme this month was fun, too. If you want to participate, the deadline to post is April 10th at noon. I think you should! It’s always fun, after all, to try new things. 😊

Poetry Is (A Poem for National Poetry Month)

A dance of
sound and silence,
the cadence of
word and rhyme
in perfect time.
A cry, a chance,
an exclamation.
The joys and sadness
of one
or a nation.
Light and dark and lyrical,
or halting and still.
The will to write,
the fight to find
just the right
turn of phrase
to break through the haze
of day and night
and step outside
the endless circle.
Poetry is power:
yours, mine, and ours.
Poetry is home,
and away,
and longing
and knowing
and looking
and seeing –
all that we are,
and all that we can become.