The flames from our fire crackled and jumped this way and that making our shadows dance about on the massive rocks encircling our camp. My girlfriend and her son were busy with cleaning up after dinner and making coffee. I could smell the strong aroma of the grounds and could hear the water hitting the bottom of the lid as it was being heated and shooting up through the tube inside of the pot one drop at a time. I rose from the spot I was sitting in and walked up out through the giant rocks to stand peering out at the lake.
I looked down at the mask that I held in my hands. It was pretty dark outside by now but I could still make out it's unique shape. I would know it anywhere, who wouldn't recognize the face of Batman? I had been a fan since I was a young boy and over the years Batman had become my favorite superhero. I found that I could relate more easily to him than any of the other superheros from D.C. or Marvel. He was human after all and it didn't take much of an imagination to believe in that. I was more interested in reality than fantasy and he was the closest thing in my young mind to what a real superhero might be like. So there I stood with a mindful of questions. Who had placed the mask in that cave? Where had the mask came from, it seemed to be seriously heavy duty, and hard enough to break an attackers fist or deflect a light caliber bullet. What had it been used for and why was it in the middle of an altar in a secret chamber at the back of that cave? Why had I found the cave in the first place and why, of all the things that I could have said finding my first cave ever, did I have to say what I said about "finding Batman's cave." I found very little answers, if any at all. Returning to the crescent shaped camp in the rocks I sat near the fire and accepted a cup of coffee as it had just finished brewing. Percolating coffee on a camp fire can be a tricky thing if your not used to it and Edward had scorched this pot pretty good. I remember it tasting somewhat burnt but was happy to have it anyway. After a round of cigarettes to go with the coffee we passed a pipe around. After an hour or so of conversation between the three of us I put the mask of my face and walked back out of the circle and into the night. It was full dark now and the stars were shining up above. I walked through the massive stones that were scattered around our camp for a few hundred yards and reached the old gravel road and walked up into the forests edge. A little ways into the forest I turned and looked back off through the woods, I could not see the glow of our camp because it was hidden well. Hearing an owl sound off behind me somewhere in the ridges I turned and peered into the darkness. After awhile I let my eyes drift up to the tree tops. I could see shining lights twinkling down through the branches and leaves. I strained my ears to hear all of the sounds of the night. It was like a symphony out here. Crickets, frogs, birds, creaking trees, rustling leaves and brush on the ground. Occasionally a bobcat would let off the blood curling cry that sounded eerily like how I imagined it might sound to hear a woman being murdered. As I stood there amongst a copse of pines a pack of coyotes began to sound off. They sounded pretty close, maybe a ridge or two away. I started to make my way through the trees and down the slope towards the gravel road. Finding the road I followed it around the bend and towards the giant rocks near the lakes shore. I stepped back off of the road and headed for the hidden crescent shaped camp. Up above a sliver of moon shone it's light onto the surface of the lake turning it silver. I returned to the fire circle just as smores were being made. I wasn't very hungry and really didn't feel like eating anything sweet but I accepted one anyway. After I finished the sticky treat I threw my tinfoil in the fire and looked on through the flames and watch it turn bright orange and become one with the bed of coals. A short time later we were laid out in our sleeping bags under the night sky. I remember making out constellations and pondering the meaning of the mask. The last thing I remember was a crow cawing in the distance. He cawed three times.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Archives
December 2018
AuthorWriter, nature lover, poet, pagan, occultist and blogger. Categories
All
|