<![CDATA[We put a bow on two full years of the mindcast! I briefly discuss the recent news of Planet Nine and what it means to my astrology chart, an even more brief recap on the last two years, obsess about how I obsess of running out of time and whatever it means, and then start a community writing paranormal writing prompt. Thanks for two beautiful, wonderful years. I look forward to many more. The beginning of what I wrote and read to be continued is below…
Drenched in sweat, weak from relentless pursuit, Rebecca or “Beck” as her friends called her, rested on a felled Sequoia trunk, each breath deeper and crisper than the last. As she exhaled, the clouds became more dense, as if the world surrounding her was closing in and the fog had nowhere else to go. Eventually, the rise and fall of her chest slowed and the realization of another escaped opportunity washed over her, as a single drip perched upon the brow of her third eye, barely grasping to its last hair.
Her curiosity peaked at the ideas, the wonderings, the musing of why they enter this terrain. To what end do they embark upon these seemingly random invasions? They, too, must be in search of something. Maybe it is something bigger than all of them or possibly an unquenchable thirst for the knowing. She knew this thirst all too well. She has been told that there are things beyond her reach and that they remain there for a reason, that the creator would have madder her mind’s arms longer if they were intended to grasp them. This didn’t settle well within Beck’s scattered and curious mind. There was an underlying foundation of fear that went into such a modality of accepting to not know. The abandonment of fear was her great quest. But, at this moment, in this now, she could not repress the shivers knowing that she must return home empty-handed and this would not bring favor to her or her family’s name. But, who else she thought, who else could have succeeded where she failed? She was after all, the best tracker amongst her clan. If she could not succeed, than no one else could have, either.
This brought the realization of the Turning. No longer could they stay, could they build or settle down. It was once again a time to move and the stops at each new home were growing shorter and shorter. The arrow was pointing to the inevitable, the truth of their existence, their collective survival was coming to its head. Would they stay and fight? Or would they continue their pattern of mostly peaceful retreats? Beck looked to the brightness of the full moon and exhaled one last thick cloud to dim its shine. She clenched her eyes tight, tight like the sheer force of her lids pressed together could create some alternate reality for her and her family to explore without fear. She saw a world with balance, harmony and the absence of brutality. A world in which they all lived together, somehow learning to be different parts of the same machine.
The wooded horn, the signaling call of her clan, sounding from beyond the canopy, snapped her out of this alternate reality and back into the dampness of her failed chase. She must return and tell the others that once again, a human has escaped, but this time they have seen everything.