WORST OF LOVE CONTESTANT

The park lay on the edge of town. The mountains loomed to the east, tumbling down in forested foothills. One-hundred-twenty acres of lawns, ball fields, basketball courts.
 
Walking paths curling through the grass and under the trees. One winding road for cars twisted through, built to allow mothers to park close by, bring the smaller children to the jungle gym, slide, and swings. A lovely place during the daylight hours. But as evening fell and darkness shrouded the grounds, a different type of play began.
 
Towards the park’s edge, where the hills rose steeply, a rocky slope slithered down just to the point where it met a grassy knoll. Since falling rocks would sometimes tumble onto the fair lawn, the city fathers (and one mother since the mayor was a woman) put together funds and built a stone and concrete wall some three feet high at the base of the rocky slope to prevent rocks from suddenly spilling into an area that might well be host to a family picnic.
 
As darkness grew, the monster sat by the stone and concrete wall, just where it abruptly ended. He was large, bulky, broad-shouldered. His color was a dusty gray, matching the wall. Mottled in the gloaming, he watched the activities below along the road. Women, some young, some not so, strolled along in a slow, prancing manner. An occasional car would stutter by, stop, words would exchange. A soft breeze wafted a familiar scent the monster’s way, musty, the smell of sex. He lifted his broad nose in response.

Even with the savored, near-forgotten scent drifting his way, the monster noted the she-wolf who had made a stealthy approach from above and behind.
 
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There had been a series of gruesome deaths, and one disappearance not so many years ago. The park had been closed, policemen scoured the area as far as the higher hills above. The culprits remained unfound. But the blood-drenched slayings had ceased as suddenly as they had begun. And so the park returned to its normal state, playgrounds by day, playthings at night.
 
#
 
The she-wolf drew near, but the monster was suddenly gone, disappeared. The gray wall–was it a bit longer than she remembered? She walked along the wall’s top edge and stopped three feet shy of its end.
 
“Havel,” she called. “Havel, I saw you. Why hide now?”
 
The monster unfolded himself, gave a wistful pout and stood. “And why are you here? To bother? To harass?”
 
“Havel. You are the finest shape-shifter in all the land.” She raised her snout and sniffed, watched a woman enter a car below. “They play their game, hmm?”
 
The monster eyed the she-wolf. “Short-lived thrills,” he sighed.
 
“And you, Havel. Why are you near this place?”
 
“I remember.” He closed his eyes tightly. “There was a time, times, half a time…”
 
“You babble when you reminisce. I thought you were–”
 
“What good thing could you remember, Shala?” The monster looked away, down at the sultry scenery below.
 
“And what do you do during daylight?” she wondered aloud.
 
“I stand over toward that clump of trees–as one of them.”
 
“The whole day? Day after day? You have become remorseful, perhaps even melancholy, haven’t you, Havel?”
 
“And what would one as you know of remorse, melancholy? One who only takes, feeds on the death and destruction of others, their fears, their very souls.” He drooped his massive shoulders, turned once again to the scene below, sniffed at the mostly forgotten aroma of love.
 
“Oh, Havel. Have I left you in such a poor estate? You were enthralled the night we first met. An insignificant wanderer without purpose. And I gave you purpose.”
 
“And you believe I have purpose now? I was slaughtered just as assuredly as those who were right here!” If only…”
 
“You earned your reward. With relish, as I recall.”
 
Shala. You are so cold.”
 
“As you said: It is what drives me, what I feed on, the fears, nightmares of those like the ones below, sad fools. They live for the moment and in a blink they’re gone. Replaced by others just as short-sighted and short-lived as they.”
 
“Philosophical now, Shala? I’d’ve never thought you capable.”
 
“It’s because I’ve been around so very long, Havel. But I gave you life when I might have taken it. I gave you life.”
 
“Gave!” The shout, like a lion’s roar, turned the heads of a few walkers and drivers below, who turned their heads towards the dark mountains, shivered, and walked or drove towards the park exits, fear melting their once-lustful hearts. “You didn’t give, you took! Took the most precious gift I had, the gift, the luxury, of anonymity.”
 
“You’re passion surprises me, Havel. You used to be so happy.”
 
“I was a fool. Deceived by the demon that you are. I am doomed to live an outcast when I might have been living in silent solitude in peace, in comfort.. I must now live like a troll, a freak of nature, despised of men and animals all!”
 
“I have come looking for you, Havel. You’re a pain in the ass, but I do love you, my dear, dear, Havel.”
 
“I cannot return–”
 
“But you can! Return with me. You were happy. We were happy! It could be so once more.”
 
“We’ll stay far away from those such as these?” he said gesturing below.
 
“There are other things than just these fools. We might venture far and wide, find more of our own kind, hmm?”
 
He stared at her brown eyes with his own gray ones. She turned and strode up the slope, tail swishing, scent raising. He licked his lips, changed, dropped down on all fours, gave a small barking yelp and followed after, thinking: “You’re a fool for love, Havel. Just a damn fool.”

©2009 DJ Barber

The sun appeared large through the haze. But looking further Ming noted the sky itself was a dazzling blue. Looking back at the sun he realized it was not haze at all! The sun had grown, but diffused somewhat as well. It appeared larger, but duller than its usual brilliant self, its outline unfocused.

Ming continued down the rocky slope, high above the long hills, gazing not toward the heavens; feeling, perhaps, some evil was afoot. And he cared not to tread in the direction of fear, or acknowledge the strange appearance of the sky.

He hoped it was just his own malady, that others saw the sun as always, that his eyes were playing a trick, perhaps an illusion, an odd mirage. But his heart thumped discouragingly in his chest.

As he approached the village the others stood, looking skyward, some pointing, all with concern creased across their faces. Ming walked past the many others not heeding their appeals to look upon the site high above. He dropped his pack once he entered the darkness inside the small thatched-roof hut he called home. Tossing some dry dung in the tiny hearth, he started a fire and warmed his hands. He rested a bit before setting up the small spit which he would cook part of his purchase on.

Meal consumed, Ming went outside and watched the others who still stared at the face of the foreign sun. The guiding-master was among them now and assured them all was well, that the sun was merely passing through a stage of renewal, as all things must, that there was nothing to fear.

The barren lands made for a harsh life here in the high desert of the Hazzam. Ming, when a young man, had driven the oxen over into the valley and brought wagon after wagon of wood for the fires as well as the building and repairing of huts. But, over the years, the forest withdrew, the once plentiful wood now a luxury most could ill afford. Even the oxen were now gone—a smattering of goats and a small group of swine the best of the village’s livestock, the small buildings mostly in disrepair.

As the sun waned it grew still more. Four hand-breadths across as it sank behind the long hills. Here, on the dry side, where there was one well and a small undependable, often dry, stream. The village held its collective breath through the deep of the nocturne.

The dawn broke yellow. The sun rose and kept rising ’til mid-day—so vast was its size. No blue was noted; for all the sky was brimming with nothing but sun. But it was duller still. Although it filled the sky, the day was dim—like a thin cloud cover—but no clouds floated across the desert sky of the Hazzam.

The villagers called again to the guiding-master. Her ancient face grimaced at the face of the new sun. Lo! Something was gravely wrong. The day drew slowly by—seemed as if a day-and-a-half had elapsed when the sun finally finished its course through the heavens.

The elders called a moot that nocturne—no one was to sleep; for all must participate in the great call to the guiding spirits, the sky wardens, and beg them please return the sun to its proper place in the sky. The guiding-master suggesting some evil, hidden no doubt, was perpetrated here on the Hazzam and the sky wardens had drawn the sun close by to cast notice upon that evil.

In the deep of the nocturne the horizon glowed in all directions. Ming could imagine the great new sun might rise at every point the four winds blew come morning. Children wept. Even the guiding-master was sore afraid.

Darkness was replaced by gray. A dull light covered the sky with no hint of its dimensions. The dusky day was longer still; at least the length of three days in one. And during the following nocturne the thunders and the lightenings came upon the Hazzam, the stream overflowing its banks, killing many of the swine, the lightenings causing wildfires down the long hills below the village. Another nocturne of nil sleep.
The dawning came and remained. Just enough light to see for some short distance, but hardly sufficient to call a day. Some less sturdy souls wandered away into the desert, some, in quiet madness, took their own lives. Still others, merely sat and cried mournfully. A week later darkness again returned to the Hazzam.

Ming rose up and called on the guiding-master. She was huddled by the fire in front of her hut, muttering and murmuring in chants Ming did not comprehend. She looked up at his approach and glanced away, distrust marked a sneer across her dried-apple face. She bade him leave her presence.
Ming gathered his few belongings into his pack and began down the trail toward the long hills. Perhaps the sun remained normal over the high ridges to the north–that all was right with the world in the mountain forest over on the wet side. But Ming could no longer remain here on the Hazzam, for the sky wardens had snatched away the sun god. And so he traveled up the rocky path and into the eternal nocturne as the wolves howled with delight.

©2009 DJ Barber