Waking of Friday, March 3, 2017 ~ 7
When the morning came I got down
from the tower and entered a wood—and met another person, camping in there! He
had a little half-tent, and a wok above a warm fire. His name was Giro.
I spent quite some time with him,
picking apples and mushrooms from around the nearby trees and gathering birds’
eggs, and making a variety of dishes, drawing out the nutrition-giving
capacity of my provisions.
I went exploring farther and
farther away after the bounty of the wild land, even after the sun set, southward
up onto a wide grassy hill like a bear’s back.
And then it happened.
What changed? What subtle sign did
I discern? A sound? A sight?
What made me look.... up?
And David and I both choked out “WHAT—”
A blood-red orb hung in the sky,
flaming, sloughing, flaking, peeling it seemed. Burning.
Had it coughed out of the volcano?
Huge and seemingly slow-moving? Was it a comet?
David had seen a shooting star earlier.
And then, even as we wondered, the
skies became unnaturally blustery. Swift clouds brooded from nowhere, devilish
fast, and the sky turned rust, ash and cinders filled the air and the ground
smoked unholy dark tendrils dripping up out of the earth.
Zelda’s voice sounded numbly in my
head. She spoke my name three times before it became clear to hear.
She warned me—at the hour of Blood
Moon, the monsters that have been slain in the name of Justice come back to
life.
She warned me to please, be careful....
I was grateful there had been no
monsters on this hillside before....
Even so, I ran back to Giro’s fire,
and his company.
Yikes!
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