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asteriskes-blog · 7 years

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Temptation 1 (unfinished)

A demon walks in the door of my room, briskly and without looking at me. Gazing down upon the floor, he plops down upon the chest opposite the dresser. He is not frightening, he is not threatening, though his crocodile skin is off-putting. He is dressed business-casual, he seems beat, that is to say exhausted. I imagine that if not for his crocodile skin there would be bags beneath his orange-yellow eyes.

There is even something redeeming in his exhaustion. One feels something akin to pity. His orange-yellow eyes point to me now, piercing, tired, annoyed. As if I’ve just inconvenienced him.

But I am too tired. Done for the day. My business casual clothes are strewn about the floor. His gaze only arouses in me an indulgent and playful indignance.

“Go away demon, I am too tired now to be corrupted,” I say with a smirk, pretending to be distracted with my book.

“Yeah, yeah” he says quickly, almost whispering. He squints his eyes, scrutinizing me, attempting, I suppose, to make me feel uncomfortable.

“Does it lessen the effectiveness of the manipulation if I know you are trying to manipulate me?” I ask.

“Hmph,” He says and leans back with his eyes closed, his hands behind his head. “No you cannot be tempted like others,” he said, “You have nurtured your own pride, deluded yourself so far that you contrive nearly every necessary pleasure through selflessness. Yes, like the rest you function on pride and greed, but in this you have tricked your mind, deformed your very nerves and neurons so that you are the best sheep you could be, and none may be suspicious of you. I can’t myself tell to what extent its genius and to what extent foolishness, though either way you are a putrid flagellant, a masochist of the first rank!”

From me errupts geniuine laughter and to him I reply:

“Ha tricks, ha delusion. Tell me demom what is this truth from which I deviate? Better yet how does anything I do ill-serve me? So I go about, as you say, a flagellant. So leave my whip and I to our romance. Let us be. So you say I am putrid, well I should not agree with you, but if it is so, let it be so. I am no enemy of vice, less so of the Devil, all you say to me when we take the spin from it is that I which I knew already, and aside from that cherished, is that not, as they say, giving your lord ‘his due?’ So tell me then what is this truth of life I defy.”

Say he:

“Ha, so there you sit, the devil on your left and Christ on your right and you a blissful child holding up an olive branch, No problems. Ha. You are worse than a Christian, you are a Christian who believes they are a Nihilist, believes so because, of course, its fashionable! You think a man may act however he pleases and that you have simply been gifted by providence with a fetish for kindness. How lucky you are truly! How privileged! Ah but you are not so simple as that, I know you Nicholas, as I know all men. You think you can throw up your hands and say ‘I am selfish! I am weak!’ and that gives your morals your moral efforts a rock solid foundation. You try to convince me even that they are of an entirely unconscious nature. Like a beast of the field goes about eating, extricating, fornicating, so there you go all smiles and alms. But you are no animal Nicholas, indeed you are a man and it is clear to me that though you prance about showing off your nuanced understandings, your shrugging cynicisms still you do not grasp the nature of true human selfishness of the capriciousness of your kind. More so still do you misunderstand the devil. He is not some god of old satisfied for the month with a few dead lambs. No he has a goal, a plan for your kind and I assure you, you do not satisfy it. For your morality is not unconscious, it is fraught with ambition and idealism; of visions of a world very different from the one you inhabit. It is not simply that you get a hard on at the half toothed smile of a beggar, that your body is inexplicably overwhelmed with ecstasy at the passing of some progressive legislation. No these sensations are contrived, they are contingent upon their satisfying your designs on as you say ‘making a brighter future for the children’ yes?”

“So I look out for myself and my progeny. So I will my view upon the world. you wish to convince me these designs are of a personally gratifying nature? So be it, this I will not deny. Has your devil something against the will to power? Whatever form it takes?”

“As I have said, the devil, like you, is a man of design, an evangelical, if I may use the term, and your worldview is much at odds with his. Or better said, because your world view is fraught with absurdities, your actions contradict his world view.”

“So I am an enemy to the devil. What of it?”

Haha, first you are mister nuance, tipping your hat to him, now you declare yourself an enemy. Hahaha. How many books have you read? And still you are a fool, always contradicting yourself so as to suit the situation.”

“So I am his friend, so I am his enemy, what is that to me? These are not tangible things, they are of no concern.”

“Oh deep down you are not his enemy I assure you that. And the reason why is very tangible. You see chief among your proud and shining virtues is that of mercy no? Like the god you were brought up on, the god of mercy? You may have ‘fallen from grace’ as you so cutely put it, but still his ideal is burned into you, still you cannot help but be made in his image. But I will tell you what you think you already know- that that god is fiction. But it is not a fiction born of insecurity as you and your ‘intellectual’ ilk seem so confidently to think, no it is a fiction born of hubris! Pure hubris against my master, the true master, the truly merciful.

How is this you say? Lets talk for a minute about mercy- or better put, as neither you nor the devil are in such a position of power over men to distribute mercy, lets call it the simple alleviation of suffering. Suffering is a nice base for you yes? To alleviate suffering can be called, for you, a central goal to bring about that ‘divine mercy’? But I say to you now my master has far better designs for such than you do.”

“Oh do enlighten then, my pride will not be hurt for assenting to the wiser, be he even the Devil! Tell me, your lord doesn’t oppose the principle of skepticism does he?”

“Principle? Ha! No there was a time... but now everything is so muddled Besides what is a skeptic when a man has no say in what he does or does not take for granted. Besides isn’t it obvious? The devil is a utilitarian, his favored may be found among skeptics and believers alike. Besides, the skeptic is not really so fond of his skepticism that he wouldn’t kiss the ground and cry tears of joy at a very inkling of assuredness, of real belief. The skeptic is only concerned with removing all that is extraneous, of getting down to the undeniable, unavoidable truths by way of reduction. But men like you, men like you Nicholas can never be true skeptics, not unaided, not running in the low and pitiful circles you run in, reading the books everyone else has read. No, people like you become like a small child at the edge of the diving board- petrified, afraid to take another step. But you... you have a fierce spirit, I’ll give you that, you are ready to believe anything, you are deep down dying above all to get down to those basic truths, down to that skeleton upon which you may build everything. And I... I am here to help you with this. I am here to give you that so that finally you and the lord will be in harmony.”

As he said this last part his mouth widened into a gleeful smile, though his eyes remained a way which seemed distant and mean, almost struggling.

“Does this look in his eyes discredit him?” I thought to myself recalling the eyes of kinder smiles. “Do perhaps, my eyes discredit me? Are they merely the result of ignorance?” So I endeavored for my eyes to show nothing to him and I asked him to continue.

“I mentioned before hubris, the hubris of the invention of the God of Abraham- your god- whether you accept it or not! You see there was a time when man did not have such wild fancies of mercy. When man did not say to himself: ‘surely there must be something better than this miserable planet. Surely we shouldn’t have to accept, nay, to tip our hats to all that is nasty and bitter. Surely destiny has decreed that one such as I should be sentenced to lay on a couch and eat grapes for an eternity. There are, of course, old ways of avoiding such a nasty fate, but those ways call for certain sacrifices and I am above such. To say that this existence is a zero-sum game... why its preposterous, for if that is the case how am I to be a hero? If that is the case I could not be a thing of goodness, there would be no duality and from me would spring both good and evil things. No, no all the gods love me, and all the gods love my perfect vision of the planet. Why in fact would heaven even make a whole number of Gods if they should always agree? Surely it’d be just as well to have one. Yes, one, one who is the epitome of strength to validate me. A singularity, perfect harmony. No disagreement or internal dissension to rustle my oh so delicate feathers. All that which requires blood of me, all that which brings me pain these mean nothing to an eternity of perfection.’

See back then man at least had to accept the everlasting ‘evil’ nature of the world. They had to grunt and fume and say under their breath ‘oh devil you just wait, i’ll have the last laugh here!’ while they went about toiling miserably, wishing haughtily pity and mercy on the men who-laughing- set lions upon them. But now, in this putrid age we have those ridiculous sort who believe its just a matter of time before all those visions of perfection (which the men of old did not dare taint with the earthly) take over the heart of every man, woman, and child on this planet. Any pain, any toil, any hint of burden is met with offense, indignance, as if it was the most morbid insult! You know well this all, for you are one among them! ‘I shall be the one’ you poke out your chest and say ‘I shall stride forth gallantly into the world and change it irrevocably. Whatever meagre portions I should take I will give this world at least thrice such. Perfection is just on the horizon, and when my progeny sit down to their eternal feast they will look back upon my meagre memory with gratefulness. Perhaps they won’t even remember me then, how delightfully humble of me to take pride anyway, sensuously humble indeed!’ So simple, how simple a life you lead. How inexplicably simple it all is. Take all of that evil and that pain and put it in a rocket ship, send it to the Moon or maybe even to Venus! You think you can just cut that knot like Alexander and all the problems will be solved. That you and your kind deserve nothing but eternal infancy. Protected, warm, safe.

There is simply no respect whatsoever and that lack of respect, oh I warn you, that lack of respect will be your greatest sin. You say you give the devil his due, but that is a lie, a mocking and sick lie. You say you are reconciled to him while in secret you plot to disenfranchise him; to eliminate him and his memory. He has seen your vision of the world and he saw in that world no place for him. But he need not revenge himself, for that will come in time. He only needs to sit back and watch the world work to see you and your sort wreak havoc upon yourselves and the planet you so imperiously cherish.”

“And how” I asked him seriously “are a few simple acts of charity, a genuine concern for civic involvement and progress, and whatever other deplorable actions of goodness in which I am engaged assure my doom? What doom is this anyway, for which you give me such a lauding credit?”

“Mr. Cox you know well what the chaos is, you feel the anxiety of it every day... I know... you are sensitive to these things. You see the way the world is going, you see the bubble before you- everyday it grows. Every day the civilization declines, the analogies to Rome are no longer so lionizing as they may once have been. Rome, you say, fell from decadence, the same decadence you see all about you everywhere. Not in one group, or one class, but in them all. They have all reaped the benefits for now of men like you, you have built over them a mighty and luxurious castle indeed. And it is upon them that castle shall fall. The knife is coming, it will taste uncalloused skin, it will chase weak and unmuscled legs, and be seen by hearts and minds which will wish that had been so sturdy as they were when they built this castle in the hard times of old.

Into this great shelter you have let reprobate filth! Men who serve neither God nor the Devil. Men and Women who, had they not had their minds and wills dulled by your ease and charity, would, without a second thought, quit your church for my masters call. But instead they, like the beasts they are, go to where the fruit grows ripest. Go to where men like you foolishly give of yourself again and again and again. For you may seek to give threefold what you take. But what about a hundred or a thousand times that? What if of those three thousand not one gives half of what they have taken? It is only natural when you have such lofty hopes to smother your contempt for those who squander your gifts on further reducing their ability to contribute. It is only natural when you distribute such hope that those pathetic masses should say to themselves in their hour of drunken self-pity ‘thank god that the future should find a solution to this all!’

Your kindness has doomed them, your inability to admit to your personality any meanness has filled their hearts with false promises. Your ideologies of tolerance and soft cushions have enabled them. And when the lights go out they will have you to thank. For they are weak and will always suffer, that is their lot. In times of old the church had the courtesy and wherewithal to refer to these as reprobate, as Calvin’s damned. But now that concept sickens you, now you and your society see that word, reprobate, as an evil one, perhaps the most evil word of all. You would dare not utter it for fear of an existential crises, though in secret you hold it for the devil and for those strong few who contradict you.

And those weak and selfish, they and their progeny will receive threefold the punishment you deemed yourself too lofty to give. Perhaps they could have been something great. But instead you gave their fathers and their grandfathers and their mothers and their grandmothers liquor money. Or on the upper crust you celebrated their neuroticism and their vices, you lead them to believe it was better and more righteous to be a victim to their past than to carry on. And so their children and grandchildren were doomed, because you had faith in them.”

“And I should object” I said, “that there are enough strong in this world, that if they all should be good and really devote themselves to good works then real and honest ways to avoid these problems should be found. It is rather the absence of hope and the prevalence of the sort of man I suspect you wish me to be which are the issue. For wherever vice and its suffering is found there is there also one profiting. Whenever some youth proclaims some faulty or naive ideology there are those there among them who wish only for self-aggrandizement and so in pursuit of defend that faulty vehicle with vehemence. It is not only the work of charities to hand out money blindly. Though likely some operate in such a way, most of the sort involved in any kind of charitable activity have a more dynamic view and approach to their involvement in their respective communities. As for the poor wretches of which you speak- the mentally unstable and the addicts- these are the exceptions and not the rule. And not every addict lives the entirety of their life so diseased, for some help may be found, and in that recovery, though it may have been one among a thousand, there is created a real and intimate source of hope for the outcome of good works. There is one who stands to say, ‘so my salvation and the salvation of those like me was a one in a million chance, so through my efforts let us make it 2 in a million.’”

At this the deamon smirked and shook his head:

“And so he should convert another I suppose? Make it 3 in a million, and so on and so on. But what if in the course of gaining those 3 you loose 300? If the 3 have so positive and compounding impact, do the 300 whither to dust? Or indeed do those 300 reprobate drag down the world with them? Swallowing up any bit of good you have built. Indeed what has your centuries upon centuries of good work brought you? Your warm bed and white picket fence? No indeed it was the suffering and oppression of others which gave these to you, gave you your luxuries, your luxury of hope. The luxury of thinking that the nectar you so easily obtain can simply be plucked from the trees and strewn about all over the dismal, suffering parts of the world. The luxury of thinking that the dismal sufferings of these people is somehow the most unnatural denial of the way things should be, that somewhere, in the great soft blanket the world has so carefully stitched for you, some evil ogre has torn a hole causing all those poor people to suffer.

It simply couldn’t be that it is natural for those people to suffer, that is is natural for someone to suffer, that indeed every ounce of happiness you receive is leached from someone else.

They know pleasures their forefathers never did. Some, you know the sort, even experienced this ‘earthly perfection’ in their childhood, spoiled and cushioned from every care and misfortune. And when these urchins reach adulthood and taste the first drop of the worlds bitterness become to the acutest extent outraged and offended. You have also the opposite variety- those who’s lives have been so unceasingly miserable that it obviously must be something gone terribly awry with the world. Yes there is always something wrong they say, terribly wrong. It would be an outrage, so they think, that this should be their lot.

Look to your campuses: the haughty vacant smile of the Marxist, or for that matter of the Libertarian. Where have you seen that smile before you wonder. Then it strikes you, where the manifesto now sits there was once a bible,

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asteriskes-blog · 7 years

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Bulldozer Hawk

The cold crept in with the disinterest of the sun. More night hours, this meant, for foraging. But John preferred the sweet hot nights of summer when it wasn’t as necessary to move so far past the forest. Though it was October, the nip of that night was something uncommon and greatly startled the raccoons of Cheatham County.

John and his little brother Earl crept along with busy noses. At the pestilent insistence of Earl they stayed no more than a few hundred yards from the edge of the forest, where pavement or mowed grass made an abrupt border.

John lifted his head, only to receive busy readings. Fall had come late that year, and he had not fully accustomed himself to the great change it made on the potpourri of the forest.

“Let us go towards the trashcans John.” Earl whined.

John dipped his head to the ground, feigned being lost on a trace. Earls comment lingered, though, frustrating Johns thoughts. For Earl did not possess the nearly religious reverence John had for the forest, nor his equally reverent disdain for humanity. Earl was clumsy, and his sense of smell was only trained in so far as to tell the direction of human food from a great deal off.

How many times had John walked on in silence, waiting for his brother to notice the predator scent which was to him glaring. Scolded him.

“Then why are we so deep in the woods John? You know how dangerous it gets.”

Earl didn’t care much for waterfalls or gusts of wind rippling through the trees. Got no pleasure in fishing. Was jealous of Johns catches. But what was so wrong in all of that?

John couldn’t find the words to implant the conviction he possessed into his brother. Perhaps, he worried, he didn’t understand it himself. As these things tend to go, however, John had no time for such reflections. Had food and the litter to keep him focused. So he scolded his brother in a passive and indirect manner, steadfast to his convictions.

“I think I’ve got something!” John said, half lying. He then moved to a pace he knew would cause Earl to wheeze, and at an angle that, ever so slightly, lead them deeper into the forest. Thinking to himself that Earl was too busy complaining to himself to notice.

John, though, was always kind to Earl, and so too internally save for such spells. This sort of irritation grew after all out of fear, a fear which was the product of a great love and a familiarity with great loss.

Life was a hard thing in general for the raccoons of Cheatham county. But things had changed, were changing. Each year more people came, each year the sun grew hotter, the winters shorter, the flora and fauna with unprecedented bounty. Each year, by comparison to the last, was a veritable orgy of eating and dying, of birth and struggle. So oppressively busy it was, and John only longed for simplicity.

He hated the changes; had been indoctrinated with a false nostalgia which gave him his fear. Also there was the role of the father, who had died shortly after Earls birth. For though John had often resented their father’s harshness, he grew to adopt his view of things, especially since his passing. His mother too had been weary of humanity, but was too preoccupied now with raising the new litter alone to put much effort into preaching. Besides, she cherished human trash as well as any food now a days.

John simply could not command with Earl the same authority his father had possessed over himself. Could not compete with the forces of hunger, of ease, and of necessity. There were also events in Earl’s past which served to cement his views on the matter. As they traipsed through the forest John recalled the first time Earl had interacted with a human.

III

Earl was very young then, it was only his second or third time venturing past the forest. They came upon a parking lot one mild spring day in search of food and amusement. John instructed Earl, hesitantly, to split from him and check the western parameter of the lot while he took to the east. It happend to be at the point furthest out that John heard behind him the slamming of a car door.

Panic took him and he scampered, taking cover behind a small green trash can. Peeking out he saw that in the shade of the trees stood a lithe little human with hair the color of fox-fur. Earl stood some meters before her paralyzed.

A young man emereged from the other side of the car, and slowly he crept to hand something to the girl, her gaze hard on Earl. John attempted to make a noise but Earl did not hear him.

John had mainly heard of humans as a sort of pest, as a bunch of inconsiderate, loud annoyances. But the old ones were full of tales of slaughter and skinning and all number of brutality. Despite his strength he hadn’t the courage to dash out and save Earl. The girl then stooped, held out her hand and alternated clicking and cooing. Immediately John and Earl smelled the food in her hand and with cautious curiosity Earl approached the girl.

Guilt nagged at John and he dragged his claws in frustration against the pavement. Again and again he called out: “No Earl, no,” but peeked around to see that Earl was already upon the humans. Perhaps they were upon Earl.

John summoned all that he had, summoned the pain of his father and made himself visible, bore his teeth, bristled his back, shouted. The woman stood up in alarm, the man pointing at John said something under his breath. Despite the sinking feeling each of their movements gave him, John took a few calculated steps forward, every muscle tense to bursting. And to his astonishment the humans got in their car and left.

“Come here now,” John gritted. And to him Earl meekly sauntered back. Feigning ignorance to John’s malignant tone Earl said joyfully “look John, I’ve never had anything like it, its so sweet!” Showed John the food the humans had given him, a pale morsel of something brittle and gleaming.

“Never do that,” John said in a shuddering exhale, “never do that again.”

“But John, they just wanted to give me food John. Try it.”

Another car then pulled into the lot.

“Lets go,” John said, “now.”

Earl looked to the car, looked back to john, then dipping his gaze, jogged after him. For some minutes they didn’t speak, Earl holding the morsel tightly in his hand.

After some time Earl built up courage enough to say with no small amount of venom:

“They had more of it you know, if you hadn’t frightened them so they might have given some to you... enough to feed the litter.”

John turned quickly looming with all of the rage he had been saving.

“And why do you think they gave it to you Earl?”

“Well...” Earl stammered meekly, “Well I don’t know John we were hungry.”

“And so they just gave it to you, gave you their own food? Do you know who gives you food free of charge Earl? I do, mom does, no one else. No raccoons and certainly no humans.”

John turned and continued to storm on, his mind too clouded with frustration to make a clear point. He saw a suspicion in Earls eyes, felt powerless knowing he couldn’t effectively combat it. Muttered things along the way like.

“It was a trap Earl. A goddamned trap.”

Just before they got to the den Earl stopped John, his eyes toward the ground.

“Listen, I won’t do it again, just... just don’t tell mom about it.”

“That’s fine...” John sighed, “thats fine, I really didn’t want to tell her anyway, just promise you won’t do anything like that ever again.”

“Yeah John... I promise.”

The night drew on with the warm winds that set the leaves of the forest to shimmer pale in the moonlight. The brothers looked up passively from the river bank to take in the splendor.

“This is what its all about,” John mused sweetly to himself.

Leaves ushered in piecemeal down from the cliff, sending ripples along the river. John wondered if this frightened away the craw-fish, or if perhaps it had the opposite effect, disguising the ripples made by their feet.

If either of these reflections were true it was the former, for despite an hour or so of eye-straining, the bounty of the river was scarce. Earl felt for the cold of the water to gather how far off was the winter.

“Its getting late John,” Earl mentioned soberly, not wanting to incite his brothers prejudices.

John looked worriedly down river to where it curved and hid behind the woodland, the wind hushing sweetly.

“There’s a building near here... I suppose,” John sighed, “too late to take any chances.”

The lot of the building was long and flat, able, though it was never needed, to fit some forty cars. The brothers entered from the southern corner where the street light had gone out and the great rectangle of the building’s shadow cast black against the synthetic orange light of the other three streetlamps.

The air was not as quiet as John would have liked, and with a paw checked his brother’s lazy saunter out from the trees.

“Shhh!” They listened, eyes darting from west to east to the large blue object at the end of the lot.

“That wasn’t there before,” Earl hushed reading the stone concentration of his brother’s face.

A noise. Likely nothing but too distinct to be sure. The sound of leaves.

“patt-patt pu patt-patt”

then a similar rhythm on the pavement. A familiar shape emerged from the north, looked around and then up at the object. A strange, portly raccoon.

“Well he seems to think its safe.” John said coolly.

“But what if he’s territorial?”

“Well...” John replied, “then there/s two of us.” he said smiling, figuring himself just before or just after the cusp of peak fighting age.

They approached at a casual pace, making sure not to disguise the noise of their footprints. The portly raccoon stopped dead, stared, waited.

“How goes it,” boomed John, disguising nervousness.

“W’hu... howdy,” the raccoon managed to squeeze out.

“I’m John, this is my brother Earl we were wonder...”

“Nelly” interrupted the raccoon.

“What?”

“My names Nelly. Y’all come up here before?” He said looking up at the object.

“ A few times,” John said a little more guarded “but its the first i’ve seen this thing.”

The object was a large metal box its blue paint chipped to show a grey rusty metal. There was a small metal sliding door on the outside of the box about 5 feet up, and a curved, black, plastic lid on the top.

“Same.” said Nelly who then closed his eyes, inhaled deep, and sighed in ecstasy. “W’now I don’t know what they call ‘em I just know I’m a happy man when I see one. The humans throw all kinda junk in these things.”

There was a pause, the brothers startled by the forwardness of their new acquaintance.

“Heh, now don’t worry now,” Nelly said laughing, eyes on the box, “I’m sure there’s enough to share. Yeah don’t worry bout me, I’m not much one for fightin’.”

His and John’s eyes now diverted to Earl who’d walked over to the corner of the object to inspect a blotch. He sniffed it, tasted it.

“Its good,” he said, licked again, “not so old either,” which was something he didn’t actually know.

Nelly, lazy and quick, sauntered over to Earls side, took a loud sniff.

“Ooooo. I know that,” shouted Nelly, “thats good stuff, maybe some meat inside.” And without more than a grunt his large form clamored into the box.

“well?” said Earl.

“After you.” said John.

And they scaled the side of the dumpster grabbing onto a hollow protrusion placed right below the door.

John heard earl fall on something soft and crackling like a pile of leaves and hoisted himself to poke his snout through the opening.

The stench hit him like a wave, a thousand different enticements mingled with rot and decay and the horrendous. He felt a bit of the dazzlement he was certain the other two were overwhelmed by. He checked himself, for just a moment, looking into the utter blackness and stench, but hunger and peer pressure overwhelmed his puritan instincts and he dove in.

John fell into the mess face and paws first and was happy to find that whatever he had fallen on was mostly soft. His claws jutted grasping for stability and pierced a thin plastic sheet into something wet, cold, and stinking. Having gained his footing he took out his hand and at it grimaced, overcome with discomfort.

He was about to gripe about the stench when he was interrupted by Nelly’s booming complaints.

“Maaaaan, this isn’t near the amount thats usually in these things I swear. But hey doubt I can fit one of these whole bags in my belly. Huh-huh” he said nudging Earl. “Quality over quantity I guess and boy does it smell good.”

Indeed the dumpster wasn’t so much filled, a mere one layer of black and white bags giving the box as a whole a sense of enormity as their talk echoed metallic and loud. Yet still there was potential enough for a good and quick armful for them each.

“You really think it smells good in here?” Earl said incredulously.

“Haha, now theres a forest boy if I’ve ever seen one. Son I’ve been in so many of these things I’m used to it, hell aside from being used to it I’ve grown to enjoy it. Wouldn’t you know it, its been years and people food is the only thing I’ve lived on. I’d say now that anybody who doesn’t do so is a fool, is missing out on a different level of life.”

John sneered, hiding insult with reproach, “different level huh, you know I don’t have to get used to the smell of fresh crawfish, thats something’s good from the get”

“Heh, now let me tell you about crawfish, boy.” Nelly said lowering his voice and putting his arm around John, “You ain’t had crawfish like a human does crawfish, I wish there were some here now, but their ain’t, I know, I can smell it, but these crawfish I tell you its a different kind of thing, they taste like crawfish of course but... but... more than that, like they multiplied that taste, like they completed it. Human crawfish like that just taste better, eat easier, even the shell just falls right off, no chasing, no pinching. You been pinched by one of them suckers,” he said now looking at Earl “Ain’t you boy Heh-Heh-Heh I know you has. Thats why I like people food, its easy, always easy, and the more you eat the better your nose gets at finding the good stuff. Its always different too, you never know what you’ll find in some of these places, specially aways to the east. I tell you why we’re talking about crawfish I’ll tell you bout a time I found this one sucker I swear half my size. Half my size! I didn’t even know they made them that big, bright red too with claws bigger than my arm. Whoo! Glad it was dead cause I’da been runnin if it wasn’t. Swear one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. I slept two nights next to that sucker like it was my true love, didn’t need a thing else in the world.”

“They ever give you any trouble? People that is?” John said frowning.

“Well now nope, well... one time one of the little ones threw some rocks at me, that wasn’t so good. But more often than that they just look at you, some even give you food. Worth a rock every now and again for a piece of bread in my opinion.”

John felt it necessary to keep silent. He suspected an indignant pride was forming in Earl of which he was afraid, through objection, to catalyze. He felt in his heart the sinking of crisis of having been philosophically undermined, and knew that without that basis his griping and moralizing just made him seem an ass. He didn’t know what to say, grumbled:

“Well lets get to it then, its getting late.”

And began to sniff gingerly around the corner nearest him, avoiding any eye contact.

He heard Nelly say something to Earl, then snicker. The hair on the back of Johns neck bristled with suspicion. It was hard to think clearly, hard to think of why Nelly was off in his message or even whether Nelly may have been right. John willed that he should think clearly and philosophically about it all but the suspicion and his protective instinct allowed his mind to do nothing but fume. He looked up and realized whatever he had his face in was particularly foul smelling. He gagged.

“Yeah no, stay away from over there” Nelly chuckled, “I could have told you that. You’re brother’s on to something though.”

“It’s not much... but its good.” Earl said happily.

“Here let me see” Nelly said rushing over to Earl. “Ooh yeah you mind if I have a little.” And without waiting for an answer he took what was in Earl hands and chewed it greedily.

“Ah yeah great stuff, you want a little Johnny?”

“Umm there isn’t a lot left, but you can have this bit here John.” Earl said meekly.

“No its fine... you have it.”

John stared at Nelly for a few seconds, not hiding his annoyance, before turning around to forage some more.

VII

As annoying as he often found his brothers moralizing, Earl felt a twinge of sadness and guilt at John’s expression. He really hated to see John so demoralized and figured how he felt about Nelly. He himself was a little put off by the portly old raccoon and his yelling, but found him good fun nonetheless. He was enjoying himself there in the utterly alien environment of the great metal box. He wondered about the bags. “Thin as leaves,” he thought searching his mind for a context in which to put the strange material.

The moon and the stars could be seen through the small square opening at the top of the box which cast bright yellow on the opposite wall. Earl stared at the moon and shivered at the October night smiling with youth and curiosity.

Johns fuming had been tempered by the occasional delight in the discovery of food which, however, because of its unnatural quality made John a bit remorseful. The remorse and defeat mellowed Johns anger to a Melancholy and his thoughts began to center around home. He thought of his mother smiling and of nestling in his burrow full and warm. Many pretty images came into his head, but those images were followed by sour ones. Of loss and cold, and his mother - a face blank with grief. He thought of skinny babies, of trudging through snow thinking of death and of the disgrace of having not provided. He thought “Why does that which brings me greatest joy bring me greatest sorrow?”

He formed then an image in his mind of Nelly, alone and free. Nothing but eating to worry about. Nothing but he himself roaming on sidewalks, late at night. New sights and smells and sows every night just coming to him on his endless walk. Putting off sleep. Why? Because he could, because he didn’t have to time himself with the rest of the forest, with the rest of the world. He didn’t have to work towards anything. He adapted to the unpredictable, to the chaos of his world and it was easy, because that daily adaptation was the end and the means.

The suspicion came to him that Nellys mode of life was better than his own. But the overwhelming guilt of that suspicion drove him to intense and rapid antithetical thoughts. He thought of how he believed nothing Nelly could ever find on his travels could measure up to what he felt for his family. He invented suspicions in his fantasy of Nelly of secret yearnings and unsaked thirsts for something more meaningful than laying beside a pile of food. But he understood he had no clue what happened in the head of that raccoon who he watched now working so determinedly at his task. He looked then to Earl and knew his brother was happier than he. Usually the sight of that vibrant and youthful happiness he attributed to Earls ignorance, but now he suspected that maybe it was he himself who was the wrong one, his inner peace spoiled, as it were, by fear and false teachings. His fathers angry face flashed for a moment in his mind and gasping quietly, he set again back to work.

VIII

As the night drew on Nelly talked for hours and hours of his various escapades on, as he called it, “the concrete side of things,” betraying no hint of that tortured conscience John had envisioned. Though the brothers wearied of him after a time, Nelly’s stories were nevertheless humorous, endearing, and entertaining. Nelly had a knack it seemed for understanding what was novel and interesting to a young forest raccoon, this he understood and exploited with the utmost relish.

Even John began to feel an earnest and passionate intrigue for Nelly’s mode of life, though with this intrigue grew an undercurrent of suspicion to which he clung like a life raft.

After a time John looked up to see that the stars were fading and the pitch black of the sky had taken on a slight and somber blue.

“Earl, you’ve got enough to go?”

“Yeah John... Err... well... yeah I think so.”

John walked over to inspect what Earl had gathered, gave a nod of approval and turned to Nelly.

“Nelly sir, its been a pleasure but we best get going back to the family, we appreciate your help and all, hope we didn’t intrude too much.”

“Yeah you’re family... yes well... No you didn’t intrude at all. Not one bit. I... I had a good time with you two.”

The three scrambled out of the window, now moist with dew onto a misty and dimly lit parking lot. Getting out was substantially more difficult than getting in, and the brothers both hit the uncushioned pavement with a thud, spilling the food they’d gathered all about.

Nelly laughed.

“You boys stick with me a while and you’ll learn a few things.”

Getting no response from the silent brothers, frantically gathering up their mess, he spoke again.

“Say now, I was thinking, most of these places I go, most of these places I told you about, well, they’ve all got way more food than I can handle and seeing as how I don’t like to stick in one place too long... well, how about we do this again, us three, I know a place, one of my favorites and its been an age and a half...”

John and Earl looked at each-other rigidly. There was an awkward silence.

“Well its just that, I had a good time with you guys and I don’t usually get to talk to anyone much... I swear you won’t be sorry.”

John started: “Look its just that...”

John set to pondering, for indeed he was more practical than idealistic and the thought of being led to a good source of food was difficult to turn down. He did not dismiss his suspicion, but had been loosened up enough to test it.”

“This once...” he said barely, “ahem, yes, yes that would be fine Nelly.”

Ecstatic Nelly set for them to meet by a certain creek at sundown, two nights from then.

“Not far from here,” he said, “really not far!”

Earl was smiling comfortably and laughed at Nelly’s jokes, feeling with his brothers submission he could let loosen his tension. John too, half forced a smile, anxious, however, to get back to familiar smells of the woods and of the den.

“Alright now, don’t let this guy get you too down now, hehe” Nelly laughed to Earl as he sauntered off, “see you boys tomorrow evening.”

John was tired, cold, smelly, and wet. But he felt a genuine happiness underneath all of his trouble. In a sense it all undermined his identity, this he understood. To see Earl laugh as he did though, to look into his eyes and not see the anxieties and the fears he held so dear made him believe that perhaps there was more to life than he, still a young boar, had once figured, and that that different, easier sort of happiness he had so long forsaken may indeed be possible.

“We’ll find out I suppose” He thought to himself as he walked back with Earl into the foliage.

When they arrived back at the burrow, that familiar of familiars, they could marvel at the strange assortment of foodstuffs laid out before them.

Their mother didn’t quite know what to think, laughed nervously but not without enthusiasm. The kits, too, had mixed reactions, some among them approaching the strange smells and shapes with caution. Others, though, paid no mind to the peculiarity of the morsels, in particular the runt, who approached a red object with ferocious enthusiasm.

“I’ll take it I guess... you know theres a lot of food thats about to go out of season though. This sort of thing’s better in the winter... God its a lot though.”

After the meal the brothers sat facing each other, laughing, reveling in that stunning moment of the day between dinner and sleep when all has been accomplished and consciousness exists for itself only.

“Are we really gonna go back to Nelly tomorrow?” Earl asked.

“Yeah, I reckon so. I guess having someone a little more seasoned on that side of things makes me a little less hesitant, though I’d rather just go to the river again. Poor guy seemed a little lonesome.”

“Probably talked all his other friends away”

“Pshh... you’re telling me.”

“Why have you been so cautious going out that way John? I mean... I know Dad, but...”

“Well yeah Dads the main one, that guy’d seen a lot more than I ever did. I guess that combined with my not really knowing whats out there, hearing so many odd stories and all, like there’s so much that can happen... good and bad. Same here in the forest I guess but here I know the rules. And humans they ain’t no good, he kind of briefed over that rock throwing thing didn’t he? I guess we’ll figure him out a little more tomorrow. Much as he talks still a lot we don’t know.”

“We know he’s been at it a while, and with just a few rocks thrown at him... I’m sure he’ll show us how to be safe.”

“Yeah well... we’re bound to meet someone with a rock wound. Someone who’s skinned though... well we’d never get the blessing of their warning.”

Earl was silent, not wanting to egg on his brothers retorts, but silently he thought to himself

“How could a creature which so gently gave me its food all that time ago do something so unspeakably cruel?”

The brothers waited for Nelly where a small creek passed under a skinny black road. The sunset had come so early that day, and John made a conscious effort to bask in the still warm orange glow. They waited much longer than expected, however, going nearly a full hour into night before Nelly arrived.

“Sorry! Sorry. I woke up late, didn’t expect this sunset to be so early. Lord how I hate the winter!”

In irritated silence the brothers followed closely behind Nelly who traipsed along the border of the forest quite incautiously. John started stiff as a car flew by.

“Oh don’t worry there, those things stay on the black.”

“Yeah I know about ‘em.” John said worriedly, “I know not to cross those damn things unless you really have to.”

“Oh now I don’t know about all of that,” Nelly belted “ Just don’t let the cars touch you is all. You can see ‘em comin’.”

A few minutes later the group came across the stench of carrion and a mass off scattered bloody turkey feathers.

“Ya see” Said Nelly winking to Earl “Just don’t be a dumb old turkey.”

John said nothing.

Eventually they got to a clearing filled with small white trailers set up in rows. Beside nearly each of these buildings was a car of some sort and various other human articles. Looking out across the dark lot, the brothers could see a hundred little lights, smell a thousand little smells, and here and there see a small movement. The barking of dogs echoed near and far as a lonesome car crawled slowly on a gravel path between the rows of trailers.

“I don’t like the look of this Nelly, this place looks busy. We’re gonna get noticed.” John whispered.

“That’s the beauty of this place John.” Earl said with a chuckle “there’s so much going on they’re never the wiser. Hell I bet theres a half dozen other ones like us here snooping around. Now but lets stay in the trees for now, circle round till we see something good.”

The scouting was done in stunned silence as the group took into themselves all of the strange forms.

How much there is to this world outside of the common pathways of our lives. How much there is we will see and never understand. How much more there is that we shall never see. How sobering it all is. How bewilderingly belittling.

These were the sorts of things going through the minds of the brothers, while the wizened old Nelly conjectured vigorously as to which spot was best, quickly sifting out the plethora of stimuli which were unnecessary to him.

“Nelly sir.” A rusty old voice seemed to creak out from nowhere.

The brothers jumped back, and saw from the brush next to them emerge limping a mangy old raccoon.

“Boys.” He said, “Now Nelly you listen here.”

“Boys,” Nelly interrupted “this is old murph, knows more about this place than any raccoon you’ll meet. More about this place and about people in genral!”

“Now Nelly, you listen now, you see those big lights comin from the buildings? Its only some of em right? Now you gotta wait till those lights is off fore you go down near a house, only trick is you gotta wait about thirty minutes afterward, hour to be safe, now thats what I didn’t tell you last time.”

“Does the light make the food less?” John asked.

“Oh no, it just means you won’t have any humans or dogs or nothing come out and chase you away.”

John bristled.

“Well now Old murph” Nelly said quickly “all they do now is chase you away from their food, they don’t hurt you or nothin.”

“Yeah no, they ain’t trying to eat you, just trying to get you away from what they eat, far as I can tell. They throw things sometimes, or make noises, one time this one roared like you wouldn’t believe, roared so that I couldn’t hear a time after, you never know with ‘em. Always need to be careful. And another thing. Get what you can while you can cause tomorrows the day they’re gonna clean it all out. Yessir, every 7 days they clean em out, tomorrows that day.”

“How do you know all of this?” Earl said bewildered.

“Been watching em’ for years now. Since I got this limp can’t run from nothing anymore, no kai-otes way it is. Nelly tell you about that with the kai-otes. People don’t chase that much, not like kai-otes. Ya’ll stick to the forest mostly?”

“We do.” Answered a confused John.

“Things’s different out here, took years and some good advice to understand what I do. Still not much of it makes since, and something happens near every few days I’ve never seen before. Strange creatures. Always wonder whats happening in those dens of theirs, where the cars go, things like that. But I know the rules, I know whens safe and whens not. I know you gotta wash your hands and your food after you get it so’s you don’t get cursed. I know when you see one of those big colorful rectangles flowing in the wind like that, you gotta stay away. If you see a dog in a yard, don’t worry, he can only walk about 10 times his body length in a perfect circle round him, unless...”

Murph had so many rules John had trouble processing it all, worried to death that he would forget some vital piece of information. He looked out again over the field and noticed all of the flags he had not noticed before. There were so many of them, how was he to avoid them all? How was he to calculate ten times the body length of a dog for that matter? And was he already cursed from all of the unwashed food he’d eaten?

He looked over and saw Nelly growing impatient as Murph’s byzantine explanations droned on and on.

“... And I’ve heard it said, and I’m testing it now that the longer hair ones got worse food, but I don’t...”

“Now Murph, we gotta get going,” Nelly said jovially, “You’re welcome to come along if you need to.”

“Nah,” said Murph “fours too many. Best to work alone, but I already got it all for the day, I’m just watching now, but if you want a good spot, go about 50 yards that away, look for the orange and white mailbox with blue string tied to its stem, the house across from it is a good find.”

“Hey now I preciate that ol’ Murph.”

“You forest boys just remember my rules now, stay safe.”

The directions to the house hung loosely in Johns mind, as he tried desperately to recount them verbatim, as well as with all of the mass of information he’d been presented. Earl didn’t worry too much, felt genuinely excited and so remembered nearly everything.

“On we go boys,” Nelly said as he turned abrubtly and near sprinted to take cover under a trailer. The boys sprinted after.

Looking out from under the trailer John could see the forest looming massive, pitch black and formless now for the bright white of the streetlight between them. Insects swarmed the streetlight in near fanaticism, and John took unconscious note of their total ambivalence to the alien world which he had now entered. What even was this sunlike object, or the rigid black vines which protruded from it, stretching to the countless other suns which dotted the trailer park.

“If that old Raccoon knows anything” John thought “Its just the tip of the iceberg.”

He turned back to see that Nelly and Earl were already halfway between him and the next trailer. Their moment of total exposure in the light making his heart sink. As he rushed at full speed out from the first trailer the light of the streetlamp seemed to burn on his fur, and running smack into a lawn-chair his whole body began to sweat.

“Calm yourself now” Nelly cautioned, “panicking aint gonna do us any good.”

“Relax John... we know what we’re doing.” Earl soothed.

After the first raid, John began to feel a little more comfortable, and even began to enjoy the rush. He still ran full speed from trailer to trailer to the bewilderment of his companions, but by the end of the night he did so for fun, beginning to revel now in the bit of defied fear he still felt. Every time he lacked for confidence he thought back to Murph, imagined one day that he would be master of the knowledge of forest and town. Earl at first was taken aback by his brothers enthusiasm, but soon found himself running right along side John, laughing at the surreality the frantic and feverish nature of his willful immaturity.

There came a time, during the most intense moment of joy, as he sat there, wide eyed, full, and smiling, staring out over the edge of the trailer park at a dark field, at the trees behind it, and behind the trees at the horizon an endless stretch of forest and streetlights, with a thousand other burrows not quite like his, and a thousand other trailer parks not quite like this one. His heart felt light and airy and his body felt solid and heavy, but in this moment he thought “don’t take it too far” and sobered his smile.

But even in this he reveled. He felt happy, and above all powerful.

XII

So the next week or so went on. Each night a new place, a new raid, a new strange set of images, monuments to a set of rules the group would never understand. As time went on though they began to see it all as strange as the moon and the stars, that is to say, not at all.

So too John’s enthusiasm waxed full and waned to an ember. His fear had almost been erased, and he understood and accepted the enthusiasm for this mode of life, still at times he found himself missing the safety and familiarity of his old forms. He would eat something which to him seemed missing a vital element, or be rudely awoken from his newfound state of comfort by an abrupt noise or light. He felt with confidence one could make a place in this mode, but felt perhaps he may still prefer that other, at least periodically. Many nights too, he would look to see the forest looming over him. So massive a forest of which he had not seen one percent that night, begging, it seemed, with a cold gust of wind to be exploited before the snow set in and the grass turned to straw.

One night as they were walking back John came up with plan.

“Ya know Nelly,” John said casually, “maybe one of these nights we reverse things. Take you our ways into the woods show you a thing or two. Least before it gets too cold.”

“Yeahhh I don’t know about it,” Nelly said curtly staring at the ground.

The brothers looked at eachother concerned.

Earl first chimed in: “Whats up Nelly, whats got you so scared like that?”

“I’m not scared... I just know thats not my place, I just know thats not a place for everybody, and I’m one of those.”

“What you mean Nelly?”

“I mean ones like you John can get along fine in there, ones like me and Murph can’t.”

“Ahh Ol’ murphs got his leg,” Earl protested “that I get though I’ve seen ones without a leg get on fine in there.”

“Bet you know ‘em haven’t gotten on too fine as well.” Nelly said, still staring at the ground and breathing heavily. “Now look now I’ve just been out of that side of things too long, I can’t run, can’t even smell anything worth running from.”

“Thats fine Nelly,” Earl said, “Long as I remember I haven’t had too many close calls, and John here with his nose, well he can catch just about...”

John nodded for Earl to keep quiet noticing the panic growing silently in his companions stomach.

“Maybe then just come with us to the Den then Nelly...”

“No, no, no. Can’t do that” Nelly said near panting, and started to walk in another direction. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he said in a half whisper, darting away and into the brush.

He had not even bothered to tell the brothers where they would meet, and solemnly the two decided they would come back to the same place they had met that day.

“What was that about John?” Earl said sadly.

“I don’t know, best not to go into it. I need a break from all this though, after tomorrow lets get in something the old fashioned way.”

“Sounds good to me John.”

John marked his brothers lack of reluctance, it seemed that the full emersion into that world he had so long sought after had demystified it substantially. Or at least the newfound novelty in their lives had made the whole of the world sweet.

John thought too about Nelly. “That raccoon’s seen something,” he said almost unconsciously, giving his heart over to pity.

XIII

The brothers set out, as always, early for the spot: just as the sun began to dip behind the trees. But much to their bewilderment the usually late Nelly was there waiting for them. His posture was sombre and he stared absentmindedly into the forest.

“Oh w-hey, glad you boys came, sorry yesterday I didn’t... didn’t tell you where to go, but y’all are smart I knew...”

There was a long silence after Nelly’s trailing off, looking at the ground he seemed to be lost in thought. After a minute John interjected.

“Well then Nelly are we going to the same place today?”

“...Oh, yeah, yeah. You know, big place and all, itd be just fine to go back you know...”

“Nelly, whats wrong?” Earl asked sweetly.

Nelly looked up and into Earls eyes. He stared at the young raccoon with a somber but intense grief and then to John he stared the same before looking again at the ground.

“Its just hard to see ya’ll like you are... worrying about you family and all... I guess so long I put myself against all of that in a way, then seein’ you both and seein’ you do okay like this...”

He looked up to see the confused faces of the brothers and smiled.

“Heh, I guess I’m not making a whole lot of sense so I’ll just tell you like it is, because... well... I love you boys, and I trust you, and having you two around is just... well you mean a whole lot to me, so I’ll just tell you like it is with me. I was young once, younger than you, living in the forest with my mother and father and brothers and sisters like you, only I was the only one of my litter to survive, but I had the little ones you know... anyways... well one day my father set out, it was a winter day I remember, we set out to gather some food for the litter. He didn’t want to go out of the woods that day, you know, he’d get human food sometime but he liked it in the woods. Anyway we got to where we were going and he stops, smells, stands there a long, long time and says “there are coyotes out here, go home to your mother.”

“I didn’t say nothing... I didn’t say a thing. I just listened to him. I shoulda asked... I shoulda asked why he wasn’t gonna come back with me. I shoulda asked him to come back with me, I don’t understand why he did it... But he did and he did’t come home that day. And we waited, and my mother got angry, and told him to go out looking for him. So I did, and I’d never been more scared in my entire life. I wanted to walk so fast, to go and get back, but I didn’t make any noise, and walked slower than I’d ever walked in my life, so damn scared. I didn’t know how to smell ‘em yet. I was young, younger than you, just a little kit. But I got there and didn’t see anything, till I did, and it wasn’t much, and it maybe wasn’t him but... Anyway I stayed in that den a few days, nobody talked much. But my mother became angry, so angry as the snow came down, that was the year back, ya’ll probably don’t remember, it snowed so much. And she made me go out there, out there in the cold to get food...”

He gave a long pause, so long John almost said something.

“But I was too scared to think, all I could smell was snow and dead wood, and thats near all I could find. I was so damn scared of everything and so cold, I thought my paws would fall off, but I kept looking, kept looking till the sun was straight up, and it warmed me... well we didn’t eat for a few days, not much, not much more than a bit of grass or something. She was so angry at me, but after she tried going out, coming back the same way, well, then she was just angry. One day I went out again, it was beginning to thaw up, and I found a parking lot, just hoping... a little bit, some car would hit me, but it was dead still that night just one car at the end of the lot making a sorta booming noise. And under that cold wind I got a whiff of something coming from the trashcan at the end of the lot, and that was the first time. I brought it home, I remember it was still warm. And my mother was so happy, but it was too late, the kits couldn’t keep any of it down and they passed one by one. She didn’t last too much longer either. I don’t know what happened to her...”

Everyone now stared at the ground, John could hear the wind against the brittle fall leaves, and a small stream running over some rocks. The sky was grey and the endless sea of clouds moved fast with the wind.

“But uh... said Nelly, welling up with angry tears, but I don’t mess with that forest shit anymore, not built for it, don’t got a nose, don’t got a sense, just got the fear, I don’t mess with those coyotes, I know my place, ya’ll can do it I just can’t.”

Earls heart swelled with an angry, bitter, confusion. “He could do it, he could, he’s just scared,” Earl thought to himself, but held his tongue, staring at his tortured and defeated friend. John came to near the same conclusion, except, accounting for Nelly’s age and the intensity of his feeling, questioned indeed whether or not Nelly ‘could do it.’

XIV

Their next excursion was a silent and driven one. Nelly seemed able to convert all of his negative energy into an abandon towards the task at hand. Sometimes that abandon would spill over into some small but disturbing imprecision, yet for the most part the boys in following his lead found themselves far more efficient than they had been on their jollier days.

John saw in Nelly, by contrast to his previous considerations, an old boar with a capable mind and body. Indeed he’d have been no match for a veteran of the forest, but possessed strength in years and a certain savvy which John had only just begun to cultivate.

Perhaps Nelly could have been capable of Johns mode of life, but John knew that that fear which so paralyzed Nelly was more than well founded and thus a difficult thing to shake. John himself had struggled with it near every day of his adolescent and adult life. He abstracted the malignant forces held within the boundaries of the trees into a single entity: the entity of the natural, that which had killed Nelly’s father through predation, and his own through disease. Yet unlike Nelly’s father, his own fathers death had been a less dramatic and sudden spectacle, and Johns father had been able to both explain what was happening and quarantine himself away of his own accord. Not that this had been any less traumatic for the young John, but among the last heard words of the dying boar had been the sanctification of the life of the forest and the condemnation of everything else. Whatever contrary thought came to John, even if he ever found himself to totally disagree, there was, in the back of his head, always a religious suspicion that his fathers words were the truth.

Still now he thought that though there was something malignant in Nelly’s phobia, there may have been something to escaping from that world that only the toughest could survive into this world of seemingly plenty.

John allowed in himself a suspicion of those marvelous feelings of completeness and belonging in the forest as a delusion, as a way for his mind to justify his fathers view. So what if the human world seemed ugly to him, and the food impure, perhaps it was all in his head. Perhaps he needn’t incorporate the edge and fear of the forest life as a necessity, perhaps he could start a family right here in the bosom of the trailer park.

No sooner had he thought this when a sharp pain shot through his stomach and a confused panic shot through his mind. Standing on the grass staring up at a relentlessly bright white street lamp he began to vomit uncontrollably.

Twenty-four sleepless hours into the sickness John thought he really might die, his mother felt of course a more acute version of this fear though she scolded him as if she were more than hopeful.

“I knew. I just knew something like this would happen, I just knew it was all too good to be true, all this bizarre food. And now its near winter and I just don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

“Sickness gets to the forest raccoons too.” John said in a weak voice, not mentioning any names.

“So no point in going around increasing the chances stickin your nose in things you don’t understand. What if the kits had gotten hold of whatever it was?”

“Who’s to say thats even what it was?” Though of course John had a good idea of the very morsel that had so debilitated him.

“At least if I live I know for next time.” He thought to himself, considering too that indeed there may be a thousand different things that could put him down like this, maybe even kill him on the spot. He felt now a great contrast to his feelings the day before. Never again, he thought, with the same sincerity many humans utter those words in the midst of a hangover. After all, he knew Earl had gone out again with Nelly to collect food, and knew, if he could keep food down that night at all, it would be human food.

So Earl returned with such, and in the middle of his haul he dropped a plump young squirrel. His mother sat mouth agape.

“How about that, looks like we aren’t the only ones who found the trailer park.” Earl said grinning with pride.

“You’ve never caught anything that big,” John croaked out, “was it you even?”

“Yeah it was me, and man you should have seen it, this big noise kept going on and off and each time it got back on I’d get a closer and closer, guy didn’t know what hit him.”

John beamed with pride, as well as a frustration at his inability to eat. “All in my head be damed” he thought “human food will never match it!”

After everyone had fallen asleep he lay awake pained with hunger. Staring at the yellow light creeping through the burrow entrance. He thought back to all his favorite hunting stories, to the smell and the feel of it all. In those moments cold and hunger and dirt and pain brought not difficulty but glory and pride, in those moments he felt a completeness “Again,” he thought “all in my head be damned. I don’t want to beat those moments.”

Yet a chill shot through the burrow and he realized hunting would become scarce for what he felt was a lifetime.

In actuality the winters of Cheatham were too mild to cause much concern for any omnivore. Southern raccoons often do not even need to hibernate like their northern cousins, and some days occur in each month of the hear that see some insects or birds or even the inklings of greenery. There are, however and intermittently, bitter days that scatter these stirrings of life to warmer climbs only to come back again the next week imagining spring to have finally arrived.

Starring out upon from his burrow on the pale brown field beneath him feeling a warm gust of afternoon air John pondered the strange weather of the recent years.

“If every day in a row should chance to be like this how would I ever know it to be Autumn?” He thought, his limbs feeling weak and his stomach settling into its emptiness.

He was regaining his strength, but his weakness made him paranoid. He knew at that moment he was safe, but a forest of sinister possibilities loomed over him, especially with Earl gone from the nest. Was it better perhaps, as his mother had posited, to avoid the unknown variables of the outside world and stick to the tried and true methods of countless generations with their anticipated and predictable hardships. What if, out there beyond, was some alternate way that would evaporate some of the accepted hard truths of life? ”

XVII

Johns first excursion after the sickness was a slow moving one.

“I’m still a little wobbly Earl, best we go about it an easy way today.”

“So the Human way then John?”

“For today.”

“No trying to out hunt me then?” Said a grinning Earl.

“No Earl, not today”

John needed food before he could exert himself, and so asked Nelly what would provide him the most the fastest.

“Theres this place I keep going, when I want an easy night,” said Nelly smartly, “in fact I’ve been there a few times this week and every time they got something good, only problem is, its the top of a big hill.”

“You been there twice this week eh?” said Earl, “Didn’t Murph say something about that?”

“Oh, now Murph is a little off if you haven’t realized, some of these rules of his come from voices in his head and what not, and trust me, if something bad was gonna happen it would’ve already happened, I’ve been there so many stinkin’ times.”

“Lets just get it over with.” Ordered John, his stomach pains chasing away any hint of fear.

And so up the hill they set.

John thanked the heavens it was not so cold that day, for it was in fact a steep climb. John found it odd that this particular human had secluded himself so far in the forest, which was a behavior he hadn’t witnessed before.

“One house,” John thought, “I go through all this trouble for just one house? There better be something there, this better be worth it.”

The forest was turning grey black with the coming night, the sun only casting a faint orange and purple on the clouds furthest off, the leaves lay a fresh brown on the forest floor and with each step wetness seeped up from the soft ground. A coyote was heard in the distance. And Johns hairs stood on end.

“Too far off,” he said, still gripped with fear, assuring his companions of something he knew but did not feel. Only a few hours into the night he longed to be finished and returned to the burrow, safe and full.

Eventually they came to a clearing, a flat sparsley grassed lawn full of puddles sat before a dark wooden house with a porch full of clutter. Rusted tools lay about the yard and sat up against a gutted old car and a small shed, colored a faded and muddy red. A light grey smoke billowed weakly from the chimney, and if it were not for that the whole scene would have appeared lifeless.

Across from the front porch of the house were two silver lidded trashcans which sat upon a wooden pallet.

Nelly stood on the edge of the pallet and placing his paw through the skinny metal handle of the can, hoisted himself to the top. The can wobbled, rattling.

“Woah!” said Nelly, regaining balance.

“Come on John,” Nelly said, “climb on up.”

“Are you kidding, I’ll knock the damn thing over, I can barely hold myself up.”

“Well thats the point isn’t it.”

And with a clanging, Nelly felled the can and spilled the contents all about the yard. Startled birds flew up from the surrounding trees.

“My God, will you not make such a damn noise Earl.”

“How else do we get to it, quick and easy, just how you...”

At this point a erratic animal noise could be heard coming from the direction of the house.

“What the hell is that? Earl asked, hanging from the edge of the trashcan.”

Just then a slam as the door to the house flew open and bashed against the wall. The animal noise they discovered came from the house’s human who took a large object, pointed it at the group and let off a noise like a thousand thunders.

The next few seconds felt like a millenia for John as he entered a state of fear past any logic. Nothing could be heard but a light ringing, John looked around to see both of his companions on the ground. Earl writhed and screamed covered in blood.

Was it blood? There was so much. Yes, yes it was blood. And Nelly?

Still as a rock. John looked at Nelly, and back at Earl, again at Nelly, and back at an Earl who dragged himself over to John, screaming something John couldn’t hear. They made eye contact and felt only the urge to run. The gun cocked again and a shell flew threw the air. A second shot was fired but the brothers were out of sight. Instinct took over every inch of Earls mind who had ceased to feel pain in lieu of a overwhelming urge to live. For John it was the same, save for his glancing at Nelly, again and again.

XVIII

The mother hushed her kits with frantic anger as they absentmindedly mewled for hunger. The pool of Earls blood had ceased to grow on the floor of the den. This bought John some relief, though he still feared for the worse.

Earl had ceased to groan and only panted in exhaustion, his eyes now rolled into the back of his head.

“I should have stopped you,” breathed the mother her eyes unfocused pointed toward her son’s wound. It was the only thing said between the three for an entire hour, each time John responded only in a whisper: “no.”

“Is this the last time I’ll see my brother?” thought a devastated John. He recalled how Earl had been directly before the incident, hanging from the trashcan by a single paw, careless, so surreal the image seemed now in its confidence and animation. He thought of how much bolder his brother had become since they had begun to set out with Nelly. Nelly who lay without warmth or his mothers arms, no telling what that man did to him, the thought struck John with the profoundest irreverence. More disrespectful it seemed when John considered how easily he had abandoned the body, and how little in the short span of time he had thought about it. Even after the last glance, John had felt a lacking and looked back, now too far down the hill to see, though he desperately wanted to see, as if in seeing he was looking for something that again and again evaded him.

Now he saw it was the grief that had evaded him, that still evaded him.

The thought ran out clear through Johns mind: “Forget about him, you’ve got the living in front of you.”

“Bah!” He shouted, exorcizing the painful thought.

“ I should have warned you, don’t trust it, don’t trust it one bit, stick to the forest like your father said, I should have warned you, should have stopped you, what are we going to do this winter with Earl...”

“Thats enough out of you,” John said in an evil tone, staring daggers at his mother who could not take her wide eyes off of her dying son.

A bitter rage welled up in his stomach toward the woman at that moment, but knowing it was good for nothing, he swallowed it and looked at Earl, who panted softly.

John went up to touch his brother. Earls body was exceptionally warm, this John took for hope.

John sat down and sighed, and as he did, his eyes grew heavy and he nearly fainted. It had been almost three days without food, and the kits had taken to mewling again.

John stood up: “I’m going to get food.”

It was a ridiculous idea he knew, but his mother was too far gone to protest. As he stepped out from the burrow a cold night wind shook the leafless trees to a whisper. The world seemed more vast and mysterious than ever, and to its danger John felt not fear but anger.

He walked vigorously and aimlessly, his nose keen to anything he could catch and rip apart. He thought then if a coyote attacked him he would not go limp, become paralyzed as he had with the gunshot. No, he was past that, he had felt it and thought that he would never feel it again. As the beast held him in his jaws he would gouge his claws into its eyes, he would squirm and the more his squirming hurt him the harder he would squirm. He would bite and scream and make that animal wish it had never crossed his path. He would make the coyote starve for its blindness or for fear that it may run into one such as John again. A thousand wrathful images came into Johns mind, and with each step of his paws his claws dug deep into the ground. Then a loud bang stopped him dead. It was small and far in the distance but it was enough to zap from John all of the adrenaline that had fueled that excursion. Whatever he would do to any animal of the forest, against a man with a gun he could only fall to his knees.

The helplessness of the feeling brought tears to his eyes. He imagined his father saying to him “I told you this would happen” and in response John imagined he struck his father across the face as hard as he could, trying to make him feel as small and powerless against John as John had felt against the world. It was a blasphemous thought, but John reveled in his blasphemy. Every action John took that night was an attempt at blasphemy. Yet food was not found easily by the crazed and stomping John, and his self-indulgent spitefulness was transformed by bathos to an acute frustration as the practical necessities of life let helplessness creep back into his hear.

Eventually John heard the faintest rustle and looked to see a tiny intermittent movement beneath a pile of leaves.

John approached quietly what he knew to be a mouse, and as he did took pleasure at what an overwhelmingly hideous monster he would appear to the little creature. As the mouse ran out from the pile of leaves John pounced and by the tip of his claw caught it. He stood over the creature which lay on the ground panting silently. The mouse did not attempt to escape, and John figured it must be petrified with fear. As the blood rose up from the creatures hindquarters John thought to all of the blood he had seen that night. He saw in the mouse that same feeling he had known after the gunshot. No, this mouse knew it would die, John had only feared the possibility.

“What an atrocious feeling it must be.” John said to the silent creature, who’s pitch black eyes it seemed did not see John standing there.

For the first time in his life John felt unsure of his mode of life, not his acceptance of its evils to him as had previously been the case, but instead there arose the suspicion that he had become a part of that evil. He felt, reflecting on his violent thoughts that he had long ago in a dream on the day of his birth made a sinister deal which had that evening been paid.

“So now this rat, so then my brother.”

He imagined in this dream he sat in a circle with many other creatures, in the center of the circle was a sharp and gleaming black rock, set facing a bright and glowing moon. Down to the rock came a coyote with a calm and reverent swagger. To the blade he took his paw and pressed till blood trickled down into the soil below. So after came a red-tailed hawk which pressed its head against the rock and closed its eyes till down its beak came a drop of blood. Next came the man with the gun. The gun draped over his should as he approached, no longer was he screaming but smiling in humility, to the bloody stone he took his hand and pressed. As he walked back into the crowd, no one came to take their turn. Many seconds went by in silence, every creature of the audience staring forward to the stone blankly.

Nelly’s voice shot out from behind John, “best you go on ahead John,” he sighed “you know I’m not much a one for blood.”

John looked behind him but could only see rows and rows of fanged and taloned creatures staring at him. When he turned back around he saw that everyone in the crowd looked now to him, the weight of their stares making him feel as small as he ever had. Would he place his hand upon the stone?

Just then he snapped to. The mouse had broken from its shock and began to wimper. With pity and regret he killed the creature, with sick enthusiasm he devoured it.

XIV

John returned late, the sun now just fully over the horizon. He had with him just enough food.

“John,” croaked out a weak voice.

Earl, lay in the same position he had before John left, but now his eyes were open and dim with life.

“Earl, eat, you’ve lost blood.”

“Do you think I will live John? My leg hurts so much, I don’t know if I’ll ever use it.”

“Don’t worry about that now, just try to stay alive for me ok?”

“Thank you John... Nelly is dead.”

“Yeah.”

The brothers ate in silence, their mother had, without meaning to, fallen asleep.

“Damn I need some water John, like you wouldn’t believe,” Earl croaked out, coughing.

“Don’t talk too much, just eat and sleep, you’ll get some water soon.”

“Walkings gonna be something yeah? At least its just one leg, maybe I’ll be like old murph heheheh.”

John scoffed, but then realized the reality of the situation. If Earl lived he wouldn’t be cut out for forest life anymore. It was a thought that had in it much loss. He knew it would be a thought especially hard to run by his own mother, who had already expressed her now reactionary position to leaving the forest.

John stared at her sleeping form, he knew she would never come to accept the way of life Earl had to take, he knew she would encourage him to rely on his brother forever, and that their younger siblings would be raised to see the outside world as a more sinister thing than even he had.

He sighed, being irritated by the thought, and yet fully understanding her position.

Where did he stand now? Were his early fears and suspicions of that outside world confirmed? Would he step foot outside the forest ever again, knowing every bang and bump would rush the blood through his veins?

He felt strangely ambivalent towards it all staring now at the little kits, full and playing, unhindered by their mother. One of the kits set out for the entrance of the den, and instead of stopping him, John followed him clamly out into the sunlight. The kit stared up at the sun which shone warm and radiant on the two raccoons. A screech echoed forth from below the sun and John looked up to see a hawk circling. He shuddered to think of his dream, and warned the kit that if it didn’t go back inside and go to sleep it would be snatched up.

When the kit went inside, John stared at the circling hawk and thought it beautiful. A boom shot out from the forest and made John jump, less so this time. And down at the treeline John saw emerge a great grey and yellow smoking beast with wheels like that of a car and a blade at its nose which felled trees like reeds. The hawk circled all the same, looking for morsels in the great beasts path.

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