The sun can only go down once in the mountains. Then it is dark.
There is no afterglow because there is no atmosphere. But there are
nymphs and being about in the dark. Wild things wanting not the safe
confines of cabin and hearth. Wanting the adventure of smell, and
lack of sight and feel and want of the hunt.
Wild things we were. It was the good year of the Lord 1952 when we
were cast about as beings in the sharp, hard darkness.
We went at night, each hanging and giggling in fear for the
beast that would eat us all. Striving for bravery and failing for
happiness of fright.
But we clung to each other and laughted our way into the dark field.
Filled with milk weed. Taller than each of our souls. Milk weed which
concealed our fear. Because we were together. In the moon. In the tall
weeds whispering. And wondering at the dark.
Toward the isle of Rhodes. Toward the demons of the tunnels in old
Roma. Toward the creamery. Long abandoned and left to fall apart...
dead. Each part in arrayed neglect as brick and solumn memory of labor.
For all the tons of milk and things and food. Food for the beasts of the dark that wanted our souls.
When 'ol' pint' ran,with Brian aboard the spotted back, we all ran left and
right and away. Brian pulled the long milk weed on the run. The hefty clod
of dirt did he let fly! In day time. But not at this precious dark filled
now. Away from "it". Away from "him".
At us. Scattering, frightened Innocents. Getting the worst of the Nazi blitz.
But responding too. Pulling and launching the same four foot long weed
back at the charging Pinto horse and rider that we received. Never mind
the laxity of speed in response. It was for want of speed. Not effort or
voice.
Just as we heard tell from "the old ones" about the hearth. Of the stories
of Brians brother,"Big Ballard" or big "bal" as we knew him. Killed there
alone on the mountain. It harboring the great palace of Christ. Monte Christo.
Big Bal... Charging a machine gun.
So we separate and charge into the milk weeds. The dark outline of the
creamery, issuing the challenge of life and death. Do we dare?