Skip to main content

Backwoods Boys

 “Doesn’t look like any kinda frog I ever saw…” 


Jonah peered into the water, squinting. Held his stick like how Jameson imagined cavemen did back when they hunted mammoths and fought sabertooth lions off their prized kills. Jameson snatched the stick, leaning closer over the creek. 


The thing didn’t stir. A long, strange shadow in the water. Broad, spade shaped head almost as big as man’s trunk and a lengthy body with sprawling limbs. It was a dazzlingly vivid orange-black-white, blending in between dappled shadows across glassy water. Jameson had spotted it purely by accident when searching for crawdads his keen eyes had picked out something odd. It had taken a moment to realize he was looking into the glossy eyes of an animal he’d never seen before. 


There was a hiss and Jameson whirled, almost leaping from his skin. When he saw one of Jonah’s fat paws strangling a beer the older brother nearly battered him to a pulp. He turned slowly back to the critter in the creek. It was still. Breathing gently in and out. The startling eyes peered up at him from the water. 


Something felt off. Jameson had always been the keener of the two, tall and lean and dark-eyed, quick to pause in the woodlands for any sign of game. It had fed them more than once, even saved them from the lumbering bears that traipsed through prickly western underbrush. This thing— he’d never seen anything like it. It felt wrong. He was so absorbed that when he heard a long hiss close by, Jameson merely assumed it was his idiot brother, slurping down another brew. That’s all Jonah was good for, that twit, drinking and smoking up, maybe sometimes carrying the goddamn bucket..


Another hiss. Longer. Louder. Closer. 


“You fuckin beer-swirling sombitch!”, and Jameson turned hard, ready to knock some sense into the person he unfortunately shared DNA with. 


But Jonah wasn’t there. In his place were a pair of talons attached to long, muscular legs. Jameson registered hanging claws, sensed a powerful set of jaws just above him out of sight. 


He didn’t even have time to scream when the jaws closed down on him.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Moons that Hunters Must Walk

 The Five Moons claim the sky with blood and cosmic violence. Crimson-saffron light splashes across the huge storm clouds beneath their fierce visages, and turns the world eerie. Dreamlike. Haskes, the Moon of Windfall. Storms curl into whirlwind frenzies across the bone-colored face. It is the place of howling furies and hellish nightmares, where hunters must walk across the Stormchasm to stand strong against endless wind-- or be thrown into bottomless abyss. Ahnios, the Moon of Waves. Hunters know the Tidesong, a deep welling howl of sorrow and exultance, the song to be sung out when those worthy sailed out across tsunamis vast enough to sunder continents into crushing abyss. A moon of an ocean untamed, beautiful, and unforgiving. Khinq, the Moon of Dunes. Those beneath the chaotic sky know the Blood Passage as a time of fear and annihilation, a time when the Moon of Endless Sand has returned from distant void to once again reign among its brethren. Red glows like silent, crawlin...

Bobby and the Big Time Swing

 The angry, unfamiliar star gets closer every day. It throws mean light over Cretaceia. Makes the gem-green jewel of Jurassica look sickly under nasty light, blanches the red deserts and crimson badlands around Triassican searing white. Ferns lilt. Fliers chirp ugly possibilities on the wing and it all rains down like so many bad premonitions.  But Bobby ain’t scared.  Bobby is big as a mountain, old as the sea. His people are the backs of the sky and the muscles of this mighty Earth, each one a nation containing multitudes. Starlight seeps down Brachiosaurus scales to drench the world in constellation light. His steps beckon cartographers as each one reforms valleys, reshapes the deltas. The unwelcome star threatens all that. Bad dreams beckoning fire and ash.  But Bobby ain’t scared.  The big-brains on two little feet tell him the Plan. Simple as can be, simple as gentle breezes and succulent plains of ferns for munching, simple as all things natural and corre...

Monsters in the Age of Men

 I saw a woman in the grocery store.  I saw her true shape, beneath raven black hair and pale eyes. She bore great wings, wings that carried endless plains across them and above roared storms, bruised clouds cracking and howling. Lightning split the sky into so many shattered pieces. She stared back at me, surrounded by the tiny people who so long ago had feared and worshipped darkening skies, crashing crescendoes.  We found each other out in the night, behind the building where trees and grass and vines grew untamed like in memories of vanished wilderness. I felt electricity when our lips met, felt spiking painful potential when I caressed her bronzed skin. In my ear I heard thrumming and pounding, shrieking wind. Building and building up into the sky, strong enough to crack mountains and scatter the stars.  I gave her the sea, brine and crushing depths between every kiss. I unfurled myself beneath massive wings, sprawling and armored and impossible, flashing colors...