16 June 2011


McCann sucked a lungful of thick tobacco smoke, the sludgy byproduct of the Disque Bleus he could not bring himself to quit.  The pungent fumes mixed with the dry, mineral tang of the broiling desert, leaving the sinewy Irishman with a sharp stab of nostalgia for the peat smoke of his youth.  A grimy bush hat perched on his blocky head was all that kept his head from melting in the heat.  He wiped sweat from his eyes, adjusted the binoculars mounted on the low, sand-colored tripod standing on the sandstone ledge before him, and bent to squint through the eyepieces.

Aside from a low-slung, coyote-shaped ball of dust that loped along the canyon floor, nothing moved.  The track leading away towards the horizon remained empty.  There was no sign of her, or her bodyguards.

McCann sighed.  He leaned back against the rock wall, the rough stone like small teeth digging into his back.  There was no telling how long he would have to wait.  He stared down at the faint lines of the circuitry glowing bluish through the skin of his wrists.  If not for the implants, he thought yet again, I'd be dead.  I'd be free, no doubt...but dead.  And I'd never see her again.

McCann waited.  He dozed standing up, slow trickles of sweat tracing tiny rivers on his dusty skin.  He dreamed of an alien shore, of flowers that wore the bodies of humans, and of a love that scarcely differed from serfdom.  He dreamed of removing his helmet to better hear her voice.  A voice of an angel, with the teeth of a viper.  It leaned to him, and bit.

The jolting memory started McCann out his doze.  His heart raced, and he saw the long shadows on the canyon floor.  At the far end, a cloud of silken dust oozed across the landscape.  Someone was coming.  McCann knew without looking through the lenses, it was her.

His pulse accelerated, a low subsonic thrum rising up from the rocks beneath his boots.  She was near.  McCann turned his face to the sun, content, with salvation only minutes away.

Author's note:  I don't know, dear ones, where this story came from.  To date, it is one of the oddest I have written on this blog.  I'm not sure what, if anything, it means.  It was in my head all day long, and it wouldn't let me go.  So I had to write it down.  If you have some theories or interpretations, I'm curious to hear them.


  1. it strikes me as a love-possession and...he's caught between living and dying, loving and perishing from that love. Some fabulous images, here: "He stared down at the faint lines of the circuitry glowing bluish through the skin of his wrists." Self examination. An Irishman in the dessert -- a fish out of water. A terrible love -- almost as if a vampire had him under her spell.

    Can't wait to see other interpretations.

  2. very very interesting imagery! how about making him the dead one and she is still mortal and every time she comes near his phantasm... this is what happens!

  3. ))) Very interesting, thank you)))

  4. Curious as to how old is old. Is this something you wrote when you were in high school. It may offer some type of interpretation based upon when it was written. Then again, I may just be blabbing away because I can.

  5. I have no interpretation on this one but I do wonder where its coming from and where its going.... I wonder if there will be more

  6. I read this morning and now again. I came back to look for more comments. This was like reading just a page of a book and wanting to bed down & keep going! Here's what I thought was going on:

    He has escaped her rapture. She was always wrong for him, pure evil but completely irresistable. He got too close, learned too much. He ran, forever on the run as she hunts him. She needs to finish him, to keep her secrets untold. His only way to stop running, to live is to end the chase. To detroy her before she gets to him. Ambush. The only way. Leave a trail for her to follow then take her down. End the evil. Can he pull the trigger before she knows he's there? Before he again falls under her spell and gives himself up to his own demise?

    (found you through 'Blog of Note' I'm utterly hooked!)

  7. Love and longing, two of my favorite things.


  8. An alien lost in a dust storm storm of sand, love and decay? There's both loss and longing here. Marvellous!

  9. I think it's best not to try and explain this one. Some interpretations are more significant if they aren't put into words. Know what I mean?


"Let your laws come undone
Don't suffer your crimes
Let the love in your heart take control..."

-'The Hair Song', by Black Mountain

Tell me what is in your heart...