A Campfire Song

Image by Lukas Riebling via Wikimedia Commons

Walt fed the campfire with twigs and dead pine needles, though it had taken a can of Sterno to get it started. Earlier in the hike, Marlin had pointed out a small hawk on the other side of a clearing that Walt couldn’t identify. The brochure’s rustic lunch tuned out to be PB&J. Whatever inherent mystique a Yukon trail guide might have, Walt was destroying it.

Marlin hummed a tune, watching for Walt’s reaction. The guide had to recognize the song. He had to.

“Cut that racket out,” Walt said.

Ah success. “Don’t you like the song?” Marlin asked.

“You’ve been carryin’ on with that nonsense since the trailhead. Christ himself would have told you to knock it off by now.” He tossed more needles in the fire and searched around his feet for more.

“I heard that singing or talking in the woods will keep bears away,” Marlin said.

“They’ll stay away just fine with or without you making jibber-jabber.”

Life Partner Part IV

By Bettyann Moore

Sleep never comes that night. I have been asked to think about two very large things and have no idea where to begin. Thinking belies the words that echoed throughout the Pleasure Dome: Don’t think, do. They served me well there.

First off, Boone can’t be right about Breeders never conceiving. There was Maya. Her belly had gotten big and round. Everyone was so excited … but then she had been taken away for a time and brought back, her belly flat once more. A false alarm, she told us. No matter how hard I wish it not to be so, Boone is right. At least during the 10 years I occupied it, the Pleasure Dome never produced a child.

Life Partner - Part III

By Bettyann Moore

The worst part about being interviewed by a humbot is having to make eye contact. It’s also necessary, or they’ll keep repeating the question or statements until you do. I’ve never been good at eye contact. The interview would have gone on for hours and hours if I hadn’t finally gotten the hang of it. And, taking my cues from Boone on the first day, I never lied. I also never volunteered any information … unless I wanted to lead them to a conclusion. Let’s face it, my sleep hadn’t been troubled for over 10 years. It was easy for me to figure out why, all of a sudden, I’d had a bad dream, but there would be real trouble if anyone else knew why. 

Life Partner - Part II

By Bettyann Moore

That night, I have a dream, the first one I’ve had since the Nursery.

I am back in the Pleasure Dome. I feel hemmed in, surrounded, as if on a crowded dance floor, but I’m alone. There is a door, one I’ve never seen before, far off in the distance. I move toward it, my bare feet quiet on the cool surface of the walk. I see myself in one CU-Screen after another as I pass them. As I near the door, I hear footsteps behind me, rapid, loud and echoing. The door swings open and there is light beyond. The footsteps draw nearer, but the door seems to have gotten farther away, not closer. I increase my pace, but on the screens I appear to be moving in slow-motion. Now running, I see the door begin to shut. The footsteps behind me have increased in number. I reach the door just as it’s about to close. I push through it and slam it behind me.

Again, I am alone, but breathe deeply, freely. I take a step. The door reopens, an arm snakes through, grabs me and pulls me back. I scream and I scream, but no sound comes out.

That night, I have a dream, the first one I’ve had since the Nursery.

I am back in the Pleasure Dome. I feel hemmed in, surrounded, as if on a crowded dance floor, but I’m alone. There is a door, one I’ve never seen before, far off in the distance. I move toward it, my bare feet quiet on the cool surface of the walk. I see myself in one CU-Screen after another as I pass them. As I near the door, I hear footsteps behind me, rapid, loud and echoing. The door swings open and there is light beyond. The footsteps draw nearer, but the door seems to have gotten farther away, not closer. I increase my pace, but on the screens I appear to be moving in slow-motion. Now running, I see the door begin to shut. The footsteps behind me have increased in number. I reach the door just as it’s about to close. I push through it and slam it behind me.

Again, I am alone, but breathe deeply, freely. I take a step. The door reopens, an arm snakes through, grabs me and pulls me back. I scream and I scream, but no sound comes out.