More Story
Morning came early, and it took a while before Jenny could collect herself and get moving. What day was it? Oh yes, Saturday. She’d gone out the night before. She briefly wondered why she’d chosen a response guaranteed to end any chance of another date, then gave a mental shrug and rolled out of bed. It took her a few more minutes to get ready before she headed out the door. She thought she might meet a few friends to go hiking. All had emailed overnight to cancel out, but she was determined. She needed some more time in the woods. Something wild was calling to her and the idea of time alone, away from civilization, seemed just the ticket. She sent a text to one of her erstwhile hiking buddies to let them know she was going on her own, packed a few snacks into the pockets of her camelback, filled it’s bladder with water from the tap and headed for the trail head.
The plan had been to meet and hike along the Soddy segment of the Cumberland Trail system off Highway 111. It was remote enough to make seeing other people unlikely, but close enough to get to within about 30 minutes’ drive. She’d not been to this area before and was looking forward to seeing it for the first time. NPR kept her entertained on the short drive, Car Talk. The guys on that show made her smile. She lost the program halfway up the mountain and turned off the radio. The blue sky was peppered with puffy clouds, and off to her right she could the patchwork quilt of trees changing color, rolling down into the valley and wrinkled into various peaks and nooks. What creatures might roam these mountains? What kind of people roamed with them? She didn’t expect to see any of them, just the landscape they might inhabit. Most wild animals would avoid a human, and to add to that likelihood she’d strapped a few little bells to her walking stick. It was a trick she’d heard about from some folks she’d met that hiked the Appalachian Trail, and it sounded like a smart way to avoid startling a bear. Not that she really expected bears. Snakes maybe, but not bears. She parked at the trailhead. No other cars around, locked the doors and headed for the woods. A large map behind glass showing the trail and elevation features was a few feet down from the road, and she looked at it briefly. She couldn’t read it though. With a shrug she headed down a trail that led her downslope along a beautiful creek using the natural rocks as steps to a small bridge across the creek and onto the dirt. Into the woods, away from the sound of cars passing, work stress and pointless dating services. Alone. The little bells on her walking stick jingled merrily along with the sound of the creek, still fairly close to the trail. With each step, Jenny let her mind drift back in time.
Dragons. What on earth had her thinking of dragons again after so long? She’d been in college when dragons first truly came to her. Oh, she didn’t see them like you might see normal animals. Not to reach out and touch or take a picture with a camera. More like, she felt their presence overlaid on what everyone else saw, and when that happened if she closed her eyes, if she opened her mind, she could picture them. Sometimes she could even see their outlines in the things they were overlaid upon. A dragon, colored like the earth in browns and greens sleeping by a creek, the horns on her head rising where a very real, very old split tree grew like a perfect imitation. A white one drifting in the air, surrounded by cloud. A red and black male crawling down a mountain with the lava spewed from its volcanic home. Their voices pressed in the back of her mind in ways that a psychologist might interpret as indicative of delusion, not as clear words but with packed meaning as if someone were trying to cram an encyclopedia of understanding into a single moment. She’d always been a drifter, a day-dreamer, so perhaps that’s all these were. Daydreams from her youth. Even as she thought this, another voice whispered in that place where they spoke to her “no, dragons are real, it’s only that the world refuses to see them anymore.”
That had once been so easy to accept. Now, with a full time job and surrounded by less open-minded folks, it was harder to hold on to as a truth. It wasn’t like she could try to discuss them with anyone, either. To even hint at believing in dragons was to ask for a quick trip to the mental ward. A medical leave of absence and a boat-load of anti-psychotic pill prescriptions to keep the dreams at bay. No, dragons weren’t of the world. Science and religion had both worked together to drive them from the world. For Jenny, the need to be analytical and steady for her day job had taken so much of that naïve innocence, the simple acceptance of things felt more than seen as *real* had driven them from her. She’d not felt a dragon’s presence near her in a long time.
Walter
Walt stared at his computer screen. A stocky man of average height, he had wavy hair and a hirsute nature kept barely in check with a lot of razor blades, and brown eyes that were both shy and friendly. He’d joined OKCupid.com a few weeks earlier for reasons he couldn’t explain beyond “it seemed like the thing to do at the time” and soon found himself messaging a nice looking young woman that had surprised him by writing back. Their brief interactions online had been pleasant, he just wasn’t sure how this would go over.
“Well, can’t hurt to ask” he thought, and typed out a message.
“There’s a new movie out. It’s almost certain to be really stupid and goofy. I’d really like some company though. No pressure, just a stupid movie to laugh at. Are you game?”
He glanced at a few more profiles without opening them, then closed his laptop, stretched, grabbed a pencil and artists pad and headed out. A short walk down the hill from his apartment had him in the revitalized “North Shore” area of Chattanooga. A strip of little shops intended to suck the passing tourist into local spending on trendy clothing, art or curios alongside a few places to eat, drink or both. The influx of Germans with a new Volkswagon plant had even added a small German/American Brauhaus. Walter went straight to the Stone Cup, a local coffee shop with a reproduction of Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night on the ceiling, ordered a chai latte to go at the counter, and taking it wandered out onto the pedestrian bridge spanning the Tennessee River. About halfway along it, he sat on a bench and stared at the water. Eventually, he saw the long, serpentine shape he’d come to expect. He slowly opened his sketchpad without moving his eyes away from the water, by fortune or design finding a blank page, and started to sketch. Soon, his eyes blank, his hands moved to draw fantastic creatures on the page. A long, sinuous dragon weaving through the water with nymphs dancing beneath the waves mixed with the creatures long known to live there. Mink and bass, catfish and carp. They began to intertwine together as he sketched, dancing together until… he stopped. Walter shook his head, looked down at his pad and sighed.
“This” he thought “is why I can’t keep a real job.”
**********************************************************************
(PS, it isn't going where you might think. There isn't a romance here, in case you're expecting one.)
The plan had been to meet and hike along the Soddy segment of the Cumberland Trail system off Highway 111. It was remote enough to make seeing other people unlikely, but close enough to get to within about 30 minutes’ drive. She’d not been to this area before and was looking forward to seeing it for the first time. NPR kept her entertained on the short drive, Car Talk. The guys on that show made her smile. She lost the program halfway up the mountain and turned off the radio. The blue sky was peppered with puffy clouds, and off to her right she could the patchwork quilt of trees changing color, rolling down into the valley and wrinkled into various peaks and nooks. What creatures might roam these mountains? What kind of people roamed with them? She didn’t expect to see any of them, just the landscape they might inhabit. Most wild animals would avoid a human, and to add to that likelihood she’d strapped a few little bells to her walking stick. It was a trick she’d heard about from some folks she’d met that hiked the Appalachian Trail, and it sounded like a smart way to avoid startling a bear. Not that she really expected bears. Snakes maybe, but not bears. She parked at the trailhead. No other cars around, locked the doors and headed for the woods. A large map behind glass showing the trail and elevation features was a few feet down from the road, and she looked at it briefly. She couldn’t read it though. With a shrug she headed down a trail that led her downslope along a beautiful creek using the natural rocks as steps to a small bridge across the creek and onto the dirt. Into the woods, away from the sound of cars passing, work stress and pointless dating services. Alone. The little bells on her walking stick jingled merrily along with the sound of the creek, still fairly close to the trail. With each step, Jenny let her mind drift back in time.
Dragons. What on earth had her thinking of dragons again after so long? She’d been in college when dragons first truly came to her. Oh, she didn’t see them like you might see normal animals. Not to reach out and touch or take a picture with a camera. More like, she felt their presence overlaid on what everyone else saw, and when that happened if she closed her eyes, if she opened her mind, she could picture them. Sometimes she could even see their outlines in the things they were overlaid upon. A dragon, colored like the earth in browns and greens sleeping by a creek, the horns on her head rising where a very real, very old split tree grew like a perfect imitation. A white one drifting in the air, surrounded by cloud. A red and black male crawling down a mountain with the lava spewed from its volcanic home. Their voices pressed in the back of her mind in ways that a psychologist might interpret as indicative of delusion, not as clear words but with packed meaning as if someone were trying to cram an encyclopedia of understanding into a single moment. She’d always been a drifter, a day-dreamer, so perhaps that’s all these were. Daydreams from her youth. Even as she thought this, another voice whispered in that place where they spoke to her “no, dragons are real, it’s only that the world refuses to see them anymore.”
That had once been so easy to accept. Now, with a full time job and surrounded by less open-minded folks, it was harder to hold on to as a truth. It wasn’t like she could try to discuss them with anyone, either. To even hint at believing in dragons was to ask for a quick trip to the mental ward. A medical leave of absence and a boat-load of anti-psychotic pill prescriptions to keep the dreams at bay. No, dragons weren’t of the world. Science and religion had both worked together to drive them from the world. For Jenny, the need to be analytical and steady for her day job had taken so much of that naïve innocence, the simple acceptance of things felt more than seen as *real* had driven them from her. She’d not felt a dragon’s presence near her in a long time.
Walter
Walt stared at his computer screen. A stocky man of average height, he had wavy hair and a hirsute nature kept barely in check with a lot of razor blades, and brown eyes that were both shy and friendly. He’d joined OKCupid.com a few weeks earlier for reasons he couldn’t explain beyond “it seemed like the thing to do at the time” and soon found himself messaging a nice looking young woman that had surprised him by writing back. Their brief interactions online had been pleasant, he just wasn’t sure how this would go over.
“Well, can’t hurt to ask” he thought, and typed out a message.
“There’s a new movie out. It’s almost certain to be really stupid and goofy. I’d really like some company though. No pressure, just a stupid movie to laugh at. Are you game?”
He glanced at a few more profiles without opening them, then closed his laptop, stretched, grabbed a pencil and artists pad and headed out. A short walk down the hill from his apartment had him in the revitalized “North Shore” area of Chattanooga. A strip of little shops intended to suck the passing tourist into local spending on trendy clothing, art or curios alongside a few places to eat, drink or both. The influx of Germans with a new Volkswagon plant had even added a small German/American Brauhaus. Walter went straight to the Stone Cup, a local coffee shop with a reproduction of Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night on the ceiling, ordered a chai latte to go at the counter, and taking it wandered out onto the pedestrian bridge spanning the Tennessee River. About halfway along it, he sat on a bench and stared at the water. Eventually, he saw the long, serpentine shape he’d come to expect. He slowly opened his sketchpad without moving his eyes away from the water, by fortune or design finding a blank page, and started to sketch. Soon, his eyes blank, his hands moved to draw fantastic creatures on the page. A long, sinuous dragon weaving through the water with nymphs dancing beneath the waves mixed with the creatures long known to live there. Mink and bass, catfish and carp. They began to intertwine together as he sketched, dancing together until… he stopped. Walter shook his head, looked down at his pad and sighed.
“This” he thought “is why I can’t keep a real job.”
**********************************************************************
(PS, it isn't going where you might think. There isn't a romance here, in case you're expecting one.)