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Authors: Robert Spiller
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step. A bolt of pain lanced up her leg and brought tears to her eyes. Her ears rang.
“That wasn’t so bad.” She fought down the urge to argue with herself.
A handful of steps left her sweating and gasping for air. She felt dizzy and leaned on her board until the feeling passed.
One benefit of standing was that she purchased additional hours of moonlight. Her panorama broad-ened and now the friendly face of the man-in-the-moon smiled down on her.
“I can do this,” she shouted to the moon. “Damn straight, I can do this.”
She counted steps, forcing herself to take two more than the first time before she stopped. On the next trial she added five. Each time she halted, the ringing in her ears grew more insistent.
The face of Marcie Englehart, the school nurse, replaced the man-in-the-moon. “You’ve got a concus-sion, babe.”
“Screw you, Marcie. I’m doing fine.” She pressed on, adding still more steps to her halting procession.
Her splintered hands became raw, and she wrapped them in dried grass and kept going.
After an eternity, the arroyo grew shallow. Up ahead, it flattened and disappeared into the desert. Flashes of light, like fireflies, sparked about her face as she left the dry stream bed. She hobbled to a stop.
Her left leg felt cold. She couldn’t remember when it last felt otherwise. Her ringing ears screamed a sym-phony. The fireflies faded, except one. To the north the mother of all fireflies glowed on the horizon. Bon-nie blinked, but the apparition remained.
A fire?
She cupped a hand over her eyes and looked again. Either she was experiencing a very selective hallucina-tion, or someone had built a bonfire atop a hill.
She tried to yell, but only managed a croak. Another attempt proved no better. Setting her jaw, she started up the hill.
She hadn’t gone a dozen steps when a raspy wom-an’s voice floated down from above.
“Be joined,” the solemn voice sang. “Be joined, Mother. Be joined, Father. Now is the time. In your fruitfulness, let all be fruitful.”
A male voice responded, “May all nature be fruitful.”
This should be interesting.
Bonnie gritted her teeth and forced one foot before the other. Already, she could feel heat from the massive bonfire.
“In your happiness, let all be happy.”
“May all nature rejoice.”
The two voices rose, holding a single protracted note.
Bonnie crested the hill. She took a final step, and fell, rolling onto her back in exhaustion. The singing stopped.
She stared at the night sky and thought, I must be hallucinating. Standing above her loomed the wild-eyed, raven-haired personage of Rhiannon Griffith, Ali Griffith’s mother.
“Missus Pinkwater?” The big woman frowned.
“What are you doing here? You look hurt.”
Bonnie gave in to a hysterical laugh. “Rhiannon, you look naked.”
CHAPTER 5
R HIANNON GRIFFITH ADJUSTED A TILTED costume tiara on her raven mane and deliv-ered a withering glare. Her breasts shook in indignation, threatening to send the Phoenix tat-tooed across them into flight. “I am the Earth Mother,” she rasped, her voice a testament to years of smoking unfiltered cigarettes.
I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.
Bonnie sat up and glared back. “And I am the Egg-man, coo-coo-ka-choo. Listen, Rhiannon, I’m sorry to burst in on your witchy festival, but I’ve had a rough evening.”
The hammering in her ears threatened to detonate her head. “I need your help.”
Just when Bonnie felt her day couldn’t turn any more bizarre, a pale naked man sporting a crown of white flowers on his bald head scampered to Rhian-non’s side.
“What’s the problem, Rhee? I’m freezing.” Tall and emaciated, a silver crescent moon adorned his right cheek—the one on his face. He hopped from one bare foot to the other, obviously unaccustomed to subjecting naked tootsies to desert rocks and flora.
This just gets better and better.
“Earth Father?” Bonnie caught Rhiannon’s eye and could swear the
“That wasn’t so bad.” She fought down the urge to argue with herself.
A handful of steps left her sweating and gasping for air. She felt dizzy and leaned on her board until the feeling passed.
One benefit of standing was that she purchased additional hours of moonlight. Her panorama broad-ened and now the friendly face of the man-in-the-moon smiled down on her.
“I can do this,” she shouted to the moon. “Damn straight, I can do this.”
She counted steps, forcing herself to take two more than the first time before she stopped. On the next trial she added five. Each time she halted, the ringing in her ears grew more insistent.
The face of Marcie Englehart, the school nurse, replaced the man-in-the-moon. “You’ve got a concus-sion, babe.”
“Screw you, Marcie. I’m doing fine.” She pressed on, adding still more steps to her halting procession.
Her splintered hands became raw, and she wrapped them in dried grass and kept going.
After an eternity, the arroyo grew shallow. Up ahead, it flattened and disappeared into the desert. Flashes of light, like fireflies, sparked about her face as she left the dry stream bed. She hobbled to a stop.
Her left leg felt cold. She couldn’t remember when it last felt otherwise. Her ringing ears screamed a sym-phony. The fireflies faded, except one. To the north the mother of all fireflies glowed on the horizon. Bon-nie blinked, but the apparition remained.
A fire?
She cupped a hand over her eyes and looked again. Either she was experiencing a very selective hallucina-tion, or someone had built a bonfire atop a hill.
She tried to yell, but only managed a croak. Another attempt proved no better. Setting her jaw, she started up the hill.
She hadn’t gone a dozen steps when a raspy wom-an’s voice floated down from above.
“Be joined,” the solemn voice sang. “Be joined, Mother. Be joined, Father. Now is the time. In your fruitfulness, let all be fruitful.”
A male voice responded, “May all nature be fruitful.”
This should be interesting.
Bonnie gritted her teeth and forced one foot before the other. Already, she could feel heat from the massive bonfire.
“In your happiness, let all be happy.”
“May all nature rejoice.”
The two voices rose, holding a single protracted note.
Bonnie crested the hill. She took a final step, and fell, rolling onto her back in exhaustion. The singing stopped.
She stared at the night sky and thought, I must be hallucinating. Standing above her loomed the wild-eyed, raven-haired personage of Rhiannon Griffith, Ali Griffith’s mother.
“Missus Pinkwater?” The big woman frowned.
“What are you doing here? You look hurt.”
Bonnie gave in to a hysterical laugh. “Rhiannon, you look naked.”
CHAPTER 5
R HIANNON GRIFFITH ADJUSTED A TILTED costume tiara on her raven mane and deliv-ered a withering glare. Her breasts shook in indignation, threatening to send the Phoenix tat-tooed across them into flight. “I am the Earth Mother,” she rasped, her voice a testament to years of smoking unfiltered cigarettes.
I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.
Bonnie sat up and glared back. “And I am the Egg-man, coo-coo-ka-choo. Listen, Rhiannon, I’m sorry to burst in on your witchy festival, but I’ve had a rough evening.”
The hammering in her ears threatened to detonate her head. “I need your help.”
Just when Bonnie felt her day couldn’t turn any more bizarre, a pale naked man sporting a crown of white flowers on his bald head scampered to Rhian-non’s side.
“What’s the problem, Rhee? I’m freezing.” Tall and emaciated, a silver crescent moon adorned his right cheek—the one on his face. He hopped from one bare foot to the other, obviously unaccustomed to subjecting naked tootsies to desert rocks and flora.
This just gets better and better.
“Earth Father?” Bonnie caught Rhiannon’s eye and could swear the
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