Deathwish 047: Kevin
“A bone juts out at an acute angle from my left arm”
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I slid all the way down from the trail high above, crashing through burnt ceanothus. I left a shock of exposed, ruddy dirt stark against the ashes of the canyon wall.
Along the way down, a naked pine root lodged itself in my side. It tumbled with me.
I have been lying here a while, a swift river to my right. The root pinned my backpack to my body. A small avalanche just ceased dusting my legs with dirt. A bone juts out at an acute angle from my left arm. I cup some water from the river in my right hand and drink.
I had decided to hike this trail so soon after the fires because no one would be out here. I am not expected to be anywhere for two more days.
To Steinbeck, the Santa Lucia mountains were a symbol of evil. Their ridge lines are sharp and choked with chaparral. The hell of homesteaders and dustbowl refugees is a wandering soul's salvation.
There are voices in stones tumbled by water. The rock beside me started somewhere far up river, but in my lifetime it has moved little. I am tumbled and rounded smooth in the time it takes a sand grain to form.
There are creatures that live such shorter lives than I. They die with no regrets, while mine perch on my shoulders. I try to draw a heart and a name in the dirt.
My blood forms rivulets in the sand. It joins with the river, the vein of mountains.
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To read the previous installment, "Deathwish 046: Brenda," go here. To participate in Deathwish, find details here.
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Kevin was born in Laguna Beach, California, and lives in Pacific Grove, California.