On The Other Side of The River

 

                                                                

            After talking with Ramona about his day, the abandoned campsite, and the mishap with Rick’s computer conversation with Mrs. Rick, Ralph was still puzzling on the question of what exactly could have spooked the campers enough to make them flee without their stuff.
            “Whatever it was, Baby, you are probably more equipped to handle it than the sheriff’s department is,” said Ramona. “You know what I mean.”
            “I do,” said Ralph. Though it has not been documented, this blue tent was the fourth tent he had discovered in that state. It was a real mystery. He kept picking at the bits of it in his mind. He knew that Ramona was probably right, she had a pretty good record of being right.
            He figured that this called for another trip across the river, and maybe seeing if he could find anything over there out of place.
            He knew all about Dogmen. But he  hadn’t smelled any of that and anyway the Dog guys knew to stay out of the Great Forest. So, though a Dog would have been enough to send the people flying, he didn’t think it was one of them.
            He waded across the river again.
            Apparently the sheriff’s department doesn’t clean up campsites. All the stuff was still there, though some animal had eaten the cold eggs, and knocked the cups of coffee over.
            He still didn’t smell anything. He looked all over the ground for footprints. There was nothing but a few obviously human prints. One larger pair of boots, and one smaller. Probably a couple then. He looked up into the trees around the campsite, not sure what to look for, but searching. There were some singed maple leaves way up high. Interesting. He wondered if maybe their campfire could possibly have done that, but decided no, it hadn’t.
            So, he walked northward along the riverbank. Everything seemed fine. The river murmured, and the wind sighed. Birds uttered small cries between themselves. The sun was getting lower behind him, to the west, but it was still warm enough to dry his hair.
            Ralph’s eye was drawn to something at last, and he wasn’t sure why. But he stopped walking to pay attention. It wasn’t remarkable. It was a mass of vegetation growing through the branches of a dead bush. Blackberry vines threaded in and out of the branches, as if it were a trellis meant for them to climb. Wild tiger lilies bloomed all around the bush. Some white daisies grew lower to the ground, and spikes of foxglove completed the picture. “Very pretty,” he thought. “Dreamlike,” he thought again as he stood looking at it and wondering why it had drawn his attention.
            The birds went silent. It was like the forest suddenly held its breath, waiting for something.
            The pretty picture began to morph. It appeared as if the bank of flowers and vines had folded in half. It folded again across the first fold, creating a fractured mirrored image. Then it did it twice more. The leaves and petals arranged themselves into a sort of circular pattern made of fractured sections of the image before Ralph. There appeared to be a sort of flower at the very center made up of bits of the total image. This flower grew and changed as it grew. The whole thing pulsed and changed becoming more and more complex.
            To say that he had never seen anything like this, is to say nothing. Its pulsing and changing made it almost hypnotic. But not quite. It was incredibly beautiful, but strange and fearsome at the same time.
            The center design vanished leaving a hollow place. The hollow place grew until it took up most of the whole image. At last, Ralph knew it for what it was. A portal, but so foreign to his gentle world. He knew that something must be coming. He stood his ground, dark and immense as he waited.
            A head appeared within the opening. It was reptilian in its basic form, and jeweled with scales made of gems, in blues and greens. It was huge. The eyes burned with a golden light. A snakelike tongue emerged from the vast maw, tasting the air of the Great Forest.
            The dragon’s head came some distance from the hollow space, followed by its shoulders and forearms. Behind the great body black leather wings billowed in some outlandish wind. The dragon smiled. His teeth shone in the light of the setting sun.
            “Hold, Beast,” said Ralph, “Come no further. I know your name!”
            “Do you bandy words with me, Bloodpod?” said the dragon, spitting a bit of fire on the ground at Ralph’s feet. Some grass sizzled and sparks littered the ground.
            “Indeed I do,” said Ralph, laughing because no trace of awe remained in his heart.
            The dragon advanced no further.
            “Say my name, if you know it, Pigbreath,” hissed the dragon.
            “The power is in the knowing, not the spewing, poor dragon,” said Ralph. “You don’t know my name, dragon, or the Power I serve.”
            “I will roast you where you stand,” said the unnamed lizard.
            “No. I call upon the Power to quench the fire within you!” said Ralph.
            The dragon’s gems dulled into plain scales. The fire in his eyes died, leaving ordinary lizard eyes. His wings fell flat and vanished.
            “Say my name,” said the shrinking beast in one last desperate yelp.
            “No. You are not here. You shall not be anywhere at all, lizard,” Ralph laughed again, looking at the thing as it dwindled away.
            Ralph watched, singing his Song of Reversals, as the strange image made of leaves and flowers unfolded and they went back to their proper nature.
            “This place is sealed forever” pronounced Ralph. “So let it be done.” And so it was, according to the Power Ralph served.
            It was still a pretty scene, though some burnt grass remained, soon to repair itself in the natural order of things.
            “I bet that fatheaded lizard is who scared those campers,” he said to himself. “I wish they would come and collect their things. But maybe they won’t,” he said to himself.
            He thought he could tell Ramona about it, but maybe not Rick.
            It was getting toward evening, and he was hungry.
            The sun was setting as he waded back across the river and set out for the Home Clearing.. Further down the path, he saw the fire of home and Ramona and Cherry waiting for him.

🐉

    *Image from Zubi's Storybook on YouTube.