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    CommentGo Back
 
It was at the burn, last year. And I know this feelslike the hottest ever, but it always feels like that, andit felt just as hot at the time. I think back, and I swearit had to be hotter. We were the only camp on the playathat had a fly bothering us -- it must have stowed away insomebody’s bag -- and even our fly was too hot to move,which was good because we were too hot to swat it. It onlyhad energy at night and in the morning. At night, we’d beout, and in the morning, we'd be at its mercy, because wewere exhausted from the night before, saving our energy forthe next, so it had the run of the place.Of course nobody’d brought any bug spray. Finally oneguy in our camp couldn't take it anymore; he said it wokehim up buzzing in his ears every morning. So he got somehoney from somewhere, and mixed it with E, and spread it onstrips of paper that he hung
everywhere
. It worked; itbuzzed around the strips for awhile, like something wasn’tright, but eventually it landed. And soon it was dead. Thisis your fly on drugs!So we had no more fly problems, but that didn't makeit any less hot.
 
Anyway, one afternoon most of us were going out earlyto see some art before a party at a other camp. I wassupposed to go too, but I'd only gotten to bed at aboutnoon, so I had a hard time rolling out and no one wanted towait for me, and I was left by myself. When I heard someonecome back in, my head was still in my pillow, and I justtold them to forget it and go on without me.Someone answered. I'd never heard her voice before,and I started up before I realized what she was saying. Istill don't remember exactly what it was, something like,“If I'd wanted to do that, I wouldn't have come in.”I'd seen her before, around the place; she must havebeen camped somewhere nearby. We'd made eye contact andshared a nod, but we'd never spoken. Tall woman, older thanme, I think. Or maybe it was just how she wore the playa;she always seemed weathered, like wood that's been smoothedby sand in the wind.After a few seconds, she asked, “Do you want me togo?” and I realized I'd just been lying there, staring, asall those thoughts had gone through my head! So,embarrassed and scrambling to sit up, I said, “No! No! Comein!” and I was apologizing and saying god knows what. I
 
remember, I was a little bit scared of her, even though Ididn't know why -- still don't exactly. She wasn'tthreatening at all. She just felt... I guess the way theplaya does sometimes; there's that feeling it could swallowyou up, even sitting right here in camp.Usually when I saw her she was wearing the kind ofknee-high boots you could use to crush the skulls of yourenemies. Every day a different hat. Now she was barefoot,and wearing biker shorts, a black tank that said “SupportLocal Music: Fuck a Musician”. Between them, around hernavel, was a sunburst tattoo, in black, the rays twistinglike tentacles. She wore one of those Crocodile Dundeehats, with the teeth around the rim.Her hair was black, matte black from the dust --somehow it looked like leather. It was parted in themiddle, and a streak of fuchsia hung on each side, from awidow's peak, framing her face. With the dust washed offher face, her skin was almost glowing, and she didn't lookmuch older anymore. Her face was amazing. It was shapedlike a heart, and her mouth was a second heart, dark andwet, inside of it.
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LittleRabbitToo

how about "Slow Burn" ..... good story

reply01 / 29 / 2010
Sean Miner

Done! Thank you! :)

02 / 21 / 2010
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