Those chuckling crickets legs rang a tune of summers sun, the grass smelt sweet as the water evaporated dewing the fresh river mountain air, valley life is like that of a little house on the prairie ring to it. We played in the tall grass down towards our river, chasing eachother making mazes and houses in beat down grass. My age I do not know but the Mickey mouse shirt and leggings I wear say I’m about 8 years old that summer. The cabin sat next to the winding bend. The door came open and the devil himself walked down the path towards our river. Reaching for my gym barbies his shadow towered over mine, turning the sun dazed my vision. Time to come in for a bit, get a drink cool off. Up the path we go as I keep looking back as the others played, some in the river already others laying in the sun. I picked the buttercups along the way such a soft comforting smell to the butter loves flower aroma. Up the single simple plywood stairs we went into the camp. I could smell old coffee cooking on the stove and damp gross dog smell old dirt. I slid off my sandals and sat down at the tabel. Fruit punch was on the tabel so I asked for a glass, the echo of it hiting the tabel seemed so loud. For some weird reason I felt very odd, new kind of yucky feeling. He sits next to me with a older persons groan. I drink my juice and he talks about his day. He keeps asking weird questions like my age? My favourites like colors, movies, friends He was so friendly I answered As I got up to go back outside immediately his hand on my thigh he pushes me back down. The pressure hurt my leg. As I make eye contact his eyes had gone dark, he looked angry yet evil.
The world came closing in around me I knew I was in trouble I emptied my mind as he massaged my shoulders up my back rubbing with his scratching rough sandpaper hands. That smell of old bread brewing and fermenting in his beard as it scratched my neck. I received the talk that day, birds and the bees how in the bible created eve. He preached while he explored. I sat listening to revelations visioning each verse. The fire the disease, chips under your skin with army trucks shooting the left behind ones. So fucked up that is. Those horrific images of dying saints appeared in my sleep, melting like candles in the flames. I still sit up from a dead sleep in a sweat and can taste the breathe.
back down the stairs and run down to the river. As though a dream everyone was still playing and loving this beautiful sunny day. Standing there I watched the fish hatchlings pop in the warm stills by my feet. With the perfect count I walk into the river and start my casting, 1,2,3 and release… Repeat and my heart died a bit that day.