Author: Linda G. Hill
All for the Golden Bowl
We come to sip the golden bowl
With parch’d mouths
And clear eyes
We hold aloft the nectar
We come to drink from the golden bowl
With thirsty throats
And outstretch’d arms
We hold to us the liquid
We come to gulp from the golden bowl
With drooling lips
And gripping fingers
We hold fast to the elixir
We come to worship the golden bowl
With bloodshot eyes
And quivering hands
We bind our essence to the poison
We coem to sip the gloden blwo
Wthe gaspng lungs
And usless legss
We grba on for daer life
All for the goldne bolw
The Ultimate Campfire Story
Deep in the interior of Algonquin Park , far from civilization, Ty and Dennis stiffly lifted the canoe off their shoulders and dropped it as gently as their aching muscles would allow. Neither were used to the stress that alternately paddling and portaging had on their bodies. Having known each other only three days, neither wanted to be the first to admit eight hours was enough. It was their first day out. They had met through an online match-up site for 20something year old extreme campers and paired up. This particular trail, brutal as it was, wasn’t to be attempted alone.
“I’m thirsty, how ’bout you?” Ty asked, shrugging the water container from his shoulder.
“Sure.”
“Not much left.” Ty shook the bottle. “Maybe we’d better build a fire and boil some.”
Dennis nodded. “Good idea. I’ll collect the wood.”
“By the time we get the fire going it’s gonna start getting dark,” Ty said, looking up at the sky. The sun was mid way to sunset.
“You got a point. Wanna start setting up camp?”
“I’ll go take a piss then I’ll help you with the wood.”
“Sure,” Dennis said.
/////
At full dark, their water cooled and stored, dinner done and half their single bottle of scotch consumed, they sat beside the fire.
“So, you got a girlfriend?” Dennis asked.
“Nope, you?”
Dennis shook his head. “Not that I don’t want one…”
Ty nodded and looked down at his hands. “I got a little confession to make.”
Dennis looked at him sharply, poising to defend himself.
Ty laughed. “Little fuckin’ homophobic are ya?” He stood up and unzipped his fly and laughed again as Dennis shuffled his ass backwards on the log he was perched on.
“Don’t worry man, I’m only jokin’ ya.” He pulled up his fly and reseated himself. His demeanor turned serious. “I wish that’s all it was.”
“So, what is it then?”
“Do you like campfire stories Dennis?”
“Sure.”
“Have I got a doozy for you,” Ty grimaced. “You see, I’ve got these imaginary friends. Two of them.”
“Will they help with the canoe?” Dennis joked, the smile quickly falling from his face when Ty growled.
“They don’t carry canoes. It’s not a fuckin’ joke. They get into my dreams, they follow me around. I don’t want them, they’re just there. They make fun of me, make me choke on my food…” He leaned toward Dennis and whispered. “They jerk me off every night when I go to bed.”
Dennis cleared his throat and began to stack the dinner plates.
“Dennis.”
“What?” He didn’t look up from what he was doing.
“They’re here.”
“Okay man, knock it off. If this is your idea of a campfire story it’s not funny.”
“It’s not.”
“Glad you agree.”
“I mean it’s not just a campfire story. It’s true. They’ve been with me since I was a teenager.”
“Well you don’t have to tell me about it. I’m not fuckin’ interested man.” Dennis said as he walked away from the fire. “I’m going to take a crap.”
“I do have to tell you Dennis!” Ty called after him. “They want you too!”
“What did you say?” he asked, turning back.
Ty grinned. “Hurry up and take your crap and I’ll tell you what we’re really doing out here.”
“What the living fuck are you talking about? Are you threatening me?”
Ty held his palms up. “Not me, man. It’s all them.”
“For fuck’s sakes.” Dennis mumbled, walking away.
\\\\\
Dennis had a hard time finding his way back to the camp. After wandering around for a while in the dark he finally came across the smouldering remains of the fire. Ty was moving around in the single three-man tent they had brought along and Dennis cursed himself silently for not bringing his own. As he stepped toward the tent he stopped short. For a second he saw the ghostly figure of a man standing beside it.
Imagining things, he mumbled, sneering at himself. Fuckin’ Ty.
Thinking it better not to sleep beside a crazy man unarmed, he did a u-turn toward the canoe to retrieve a fish-gutting knife from inside the tool sack he had packed. He took one last look around the campsite and dropped to his knees in front of the tent door. He heard giggling. Male giggling. Squeezing his eyes shut he took a breath. With one hand on the handle of the knife in its sheath, attached to his belt he opened the flap.
Ty flicked on a flashlight, illuminating the tent.
“Hey Dennis, come and join us.”
Entirely nude, Ty sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag. Beside him was a man of about the same age and height as the two 20somethings, equally naked, smiling, and slowly jacking off both himself and Ty.
At the same time Dennis screamed, he pulled the small knife from its sheath and backed up. He was about to stand when he heard another man’s voice behind him.
“Mind if I join the party?”
By the time Dennis hit the other sleeping bag face-first he heard the laughter.
“Gotcha!” Ty taunted him. “I met these guys when I went to take a piss!”
Dennis could hear shuffling around inside the tent beside him but the naked men, the embarrassment of being scared, and the scoffing were the least of his worries. He didn’t even feel the pain. At first he thought he’d pissed himself. Then as the world went black, he realized he’d stabbed himself in the groin with the knife.
/////
“FUCK!!!! What the fuck are we going to do now? He fucking killed himself!!!” Ty, dressed in his jeans, sat beside the warm corpse of the man he’d met less than 4 days ago and stared at the blood that covered his hands and dripped from his elbows.
“Fucked if I know. I’m outta here,” said the naked man as he crawled toward the tent door.
“Wait! You can’t leave me now!” Ty screamed into the dark, watching the naked man, along with his companion, disappear into the darkness.
“You promised us fresh meat,” the naked man called back. “Fuck you.”
“But who’s going to carry the canoe?”
“You said it yourself,” said the fading voice. “We don’t carry canoes.”
Love Never Ending
This letter was inspired by a man I saw the other day, crossing the road in an automated wheelchair and smoking a cigarette. It was also inspired by the constant personal reminder I have in my life that you never know what another person’s life is really like. The things you don’t see on the surface…
Unbalanced
Here I stand on the tips of my toes
Reaching, reaching
For that elusive marble
Of truth
Of comfort
Of that which will save my soul
And here I stretch
My thoughts as if to the edge of the shelf
which is the universe
To take that marble, that pebble
How I long to touch it
My fingertips,
my very fingerprints
Elongate in my effort
for that inaccessible feeling
Sensation
Of peace
L.G.H.
@April 2, 2005
Fit to be Tied
A little tale of revenge, by me 🙂
Star
You are beautiful. Yet sometimes I look at you and I see your skull beneath your flesh, your smile the ivory evidence with which you grace your adoring bootlickers.
You’re a crime waiting to be committed.
You are a star. Not only in my mind, but in the real world. I’m loathe to question what I did to deserve the favour of your regard.
You’re a scandal of obliviousness.
You are a thief of hearts, a plucker-out of eyes. You’re a weakener of knees. You don’t care that I care that you’ll take any one of them at the pop of a button.
You’re a violation of trust.
You are beautiful. You use it like a weapon to perforate the thin skin of those who dissolve in the devastation of your gifts.
You’re an injustice of nature.
In your artistry I see the wickedness of your self-loathing. I see your skull, white as the lights which sustain your ego. In those who bow to you I see your vulnerability.
You’re a consequence of disarming riches.
You are beautiful. As you ascend to the stage, your presence larger than any man can hope to command, you destroy me again and again.
Frustration
Lacking the resources to fund a circus is something I find most frustrating. I want orange and black tigers jumping through flaming hoops, clowns riding miniscule unicycles and wearing costumes of red and yellow and blue and green; I want enormous gray elephants and tightrope walkers in white spandex against the indigo blue of the big top tent, and scantily clad girls in chartreuse sequins standing up on the backs of horses with crimson plumed headgear.
But mom says maybe when she gets a new job… Then all I’ll require is a back yard to host my spectacle.
Blondes in the Woods
She was one of those characters that you just know she’s going to die soon. You know the ones. They’ve invariably got blonde hair and huge tits. And they’re always running, looking over their shoulder at the guy trudging through the woods behind them.
That’s exactly what she was like. Only difference, she went to work every day in an office. She was a lawyer’s ‘secretary’. (I put that in quotes because the only useful thing she did was lit the boss’s ‘cigar’, if you know what I mean.) And every afternoon when she left the office she would walk–practically run–to the bus stop, looking over her shoulder. Sidewalks were always crowded that time of day, so you never knew which guy she was watching for or who she might think was chasing her.
Anyway, this one day it happened. He caught up with her. She wasn’t watching where she was going (duh) and she tripped over her own damned high heel. She was so scared when he grabbed her by the arm that her mouth opened but no scream came out. All the legs of the people walking past were like the trees in the movies and you just knew it. Just knew that right there and right then, just like all the rest, she was going to die. Hell, even she could hear the music reach it’s climax. And sure enough, right there on the damned pavement, the bus only a quarter mile up the road, she gets freakin’ strangled. And just like the trees in the forest, nobody sees it. Why?
Because nothing fucking surprises us anymore. We’re all blondes in the woods.
It’s too bad about those characters.


