The wind howling through the leaves wills me to call back in response, but I hesitate. I don't want to silence all the birdsong that reignites as the ruffling dies down.
I've collected most of them so far, their calls and their photos. Only the beautiful jay still eludes me. I tread quietly along the path, careful to avoid any dried leaves or twigs. Keeping my presence to a minimum to let the forest lead its normal life around me. Even to pretend that I'm part of it, just for now. I haven't always walked this path alone. My father used to take me up here when I was younger. We'd leave straight after he got off work on Friday and be gone for the whole weekend, back for Sunday roast. I only go once a year now, on the anniversary of his passing. A way to remember him how he'd want it. Each year I take a little offering from his urn, returning him through the land that he loved piece by piece. The track itself is more a memory of what it once was. Some parts of it have worn away, some reclaimed by nature. A few markings no longer point the right way, but I won't get lost here. I thought that some day I'd take my own children out here, but it was never meant to be. It's a steep climb to the peak and where I'll set my tent for the night. Dangerous in wet weather and without the appropriate gear, but it hasn't rained in months. I busy myself in the tent while I still have some daylight. The construction is mostly complete, just a manner of putting all of the pieces together. I get out to boil some water before putting together the final touch. A capsule of my father's ashes right into the heart of the creation, before closing it all up and applying the layer of active polymer camouflage. I normally use it for bird hides while out spotting, but it has alternative uses. The sunset is beautiful, casting a red glow over the surrounding countryside, as I sip at my steaming cup of soup. The insects aren't too bad at this altitude. It will get cold overnight despite it being the middle of summer. Not quite to freezing, but close. There is an almost 360 degree view from here, only the true peak takes a wedge of the eastern view. Not a city or town in sight. There is an abandoned farmhouse to the south, and occasionally a car will pass down the old highway, taking the extra time for a more scenic route. It's a new moon, so the stars should be beautiful tonight. We used to be able to see the entire milky way when I was younger. My father would point out all the constellations and tell stories about each of them; from different mythologies and some that he'd make up himself. Those were always my favourites, though I didn't know it at the time. It happens soon after Venus appears in the newborn night sky. She is the first to shine and the last to be seen. The sky brightens again, not with the awakening of more stars, but with the flickering laser show that is low earth orbit advertising. They will spatter the sky most of the night. Some do not have the funds to cover a full night every night, so they are replaced with others on an advertising timeshare. The light show does not abate until morning, when the raw power of the sun makes competing with wattage financially unsound. I choose my target carefully. I had already selected it before the hike, but visual confirmation is necessary. Back in the tent I calibrate the trajectory of my creation. A simple self guiding rocket. There is little danger it will hit the wrong target. More likely it will be stopped by the LEO missile defence network. The camouflage should help somewhat, but it is designed to deceive birds, not military hardware. It will be harder to track during the daytime, so I leave it set on a timer. No remote control, I can't have it linking directly back to me. All the parts are second hand, bought in cash. I leave early in the morning, skipping breakfast in favour of a quick return. I want to be on the road already before the fireworks begin. On the way back down I hear the call of the beautiful jay, a stunning morning song, and my hand immediately reaches for my camera, but its parts have already been reconfigured for the rocket's guidance system. Another time. I'm in my car on the road at the time the rocket is set to fly. I won't be able to see it, but it’s a feeling of both relief and trepidation that fills me. The relief slowly wears down as the distance to home is eaten away. I reach home just before nightfall. Time for dinner and a bath, before a beer on the porch with a view of the sky. The advertising dawn rises again, with one minor change from yesterday, if you know where to look. I raise the glass to my father, with one fewer advertisement in the sky. One of thousands, but one nonetheless. A new story to tell of the lights in the night sky.
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Every week on Wednesday there'll be a new short story or poem added to this page.
Lets call it Words on Wednesdays. older
. . Self care - 26.01.2022 (Poem) Perceptions of reality - 2.02.2022 (Poem) Natural impunity - 9.02.2022 (Short Story) Lost in a Labyrinth - 2.03.2022 (Poem) Ministerial Standard - 23.03.2022 (Poem) Dungeons and Dating - 6.04.2022 (Short Story) Better Shared - 20.04.2022 (Poem) Touch to toilet - 27.04.2022 (Poem) Shooting Stars - 4.05.2022 (Short Story) Chop Shop - 18.05.2022 (Poem) Family Ties - 25.05.2022 (Short Story) Age of Consent - 8.06.2022 (Poem) Legacy - 24.08.2022 (Poem) Performative Enjoyment - 7.09.2022 (Poem) Bridge of Dreams - 7.12.2022 (Poem) Faultless - 22.12.2022 (Poem) Disconservative - 11.01.2023 (Poem) Single use - 1.03.2023 (Poem) Donor Cards - 6.04.2023 (Poem) Creative Art Say I - 13.04.2023 (Poem) Home-bound - 5.07.2023 (Short Story) Sand and Sea - 20.07.2023 (Short Story) Luminosity - 15.11.2023 (Short Story) About the AuthorA 33 year old medical intern who plays frisbee and likes long walks over mountains. Archives
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