Green Center Fiction

Down and Away


“Don’t you know?”

I hear her, but I’m not answering.

“Charlie”, her voice is louder now.

“I heard what you said the first time”, I snap back.

“Then why didn’t you answer me?”

I didn’t answer because her back was to me while asking, just like what she’s doing now, but I’m not going to answer her until she turns around. We’ve been awake since this time yesterday. I got home from work at eight in the morning, and when I walked in he was still putting on his clothes. I yelled, “What the fuck is going on?”

The guy rushed past me and down the stairs. After that, it’s just been me and Rachel, and I’ve been drinking and yelling almost the whole time. I don’t hit women though, so she has nothing to worry about physically. We did leave once to the beer store, and I refrained from yelling while we were in public. We saw Danny and he was already toasted and coming to town for more. He told us to come out to his camp later, but we’ve been here at the apartment the whole time.




“Don’t you know?” This time she’s facing me.

“It’s his.”

“I think it is.”

That’s what it took twenty four hours to find out. She’s having this other guy’s baby. This is probably true as I’ve been working nights at the mill and our sex life together was pretty non-existent. She never wanted to in the morning and she was always gone before I left for work. Sometimes she’d be around during the day and we’d roll around in bed for awhile, but those days were few.

I agree that the baby is probably his, but I’m not telling her that right now. Right now, I’m leaving and I’m going to go drink beer with Danny all day until I pass out on his couch.

I’m taking her Jeep and leaving her my truck. She hates driving a stick. The beer store should be open by now, and then off to Danny’s camp. The road to the camp is gravel and I’m taking it slow because I’m loaded and Rachel might have called the cops when she heard me leave. Danny is on his porch when I pull up. He looks like he hasn’t slept much either. His eyes are bloodshot and he hasn’t shaved. He looks at me and smiles then asks “You wanna go fishing?”

“Sure when?” I’m staggering and reaching into the Jeep’s back door to get my beer.

“Right now man”, says Danny. “I’ve been catching big ones in the morning.”

“Yeah, that’s what you told me yesterday.” I answer back as I’m looking for my shoes in the Jeep. Danny already has the boat ready so all I do is take my bag into his kitchen and then we’re in the water.

The lake is still and the boat cuts a wake right to the middle and then north towards a cove surrounded by cliffs. We scare a family of geese as we turn. Their bodies are dark in the light blue summer sky and they attract the interest of an eagle. Danny stops the boat about twenty-feet from shore, right by the cliffs. We decide we’re going to jig for walleye on the bottom, right by where Danny said he’s been catching them. It’s quiet here. The cliffs block any wind. The lake is a mirror. There are pike jumping close to the cliffs, making ripples, but Danny and I want the walleye. We get our rods around and our lines are in the water. We haven’t said a word since we were on shore. It’s Danny who finally pipes up.

“So what’s gong on with you and Rachel?” Danny’s cracking open a can of beer.

“I caught her and Stephan Dupont in bed together. He was putting his pants on when I came in from work.” I can’t look at Danny as I speak. I kind of don’t want to talk about it, but he asked and it’s his boat.


We don’t say anything else for a few minutes. The first hit is just a light bump, but then my rod nearly bends in half and my drag is grinding.

“Holy fuck!” yells Danny. “First fish of the day.”

“Oh it’s a nice one”, I’m not yelling, but I’m pretty wound up. The fish feels like one of the big ones Danny was talking about. I fight it for awhile. It wants to go under the boat, but I finally get it close enough so Danny can get it in the net. It’s a big fish with a big yellow belly. I’m thinking probably six pounds. Danny’s yelling and I’m just smiling. After getting the fish in the bag I wash my hands off in the lake and have Danny give me a beer. Danny lights a cigarette and he’s still laughing.

“I still love her you know.” I’m smiling as I say this, but Danny stops laughing. He doesn’t say anything so I speak up again.

“That’s what I can’t get around. She can hurt me like this, but I still love her. If she leaves me I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.” I take a big sip of beer then light a cigarette. It’s quiet again. The loons are calling near the middle of the lake, and the cliffs amplify their voices. There’s a breeze up in the trees, on top of the cliffs. Down here on the lake, it’s still.



Danny looks at his watch and says “We’ve only been here ten minutes and we’ve got a big goddam fish.” It’s not ten seconds after Danny says this that he catches one. He looks at me like he just sat on a tack.

“Holy fuck!” he yells. His rod is bent just as far as mine was on the first one. “We’re sitting right on top of them or something.” He’s yelling and reeling in at the same time. I grab the net and watch the water for the fish. After about forty-five seconds I get a glimpse of the fish as it turns its belly to the surface. I get the net in the water and Danny leads it right in. It’s another walleye, at least six pounds. We keep catching fish like this for at least an hour. Danny and I both wind up with three nice walleye. We’re almost ready to head into town for more beer, but we decide against it when we get back to the cabin.

We clean our fish and drink at least two more beers each and Danny is telling stories about working out west, in the oil sands. She’s all I can think about. Danny’s voice may as well be the engine of a car, just a hum in the background. I should probably quit drinking for the day and try to get some sleep, but I don’t know if I can. And when I wake up, then what?

“Fuck I’m starving”, says Danny. “We should cook these up eh? We should cook these and try and catch some more later.”

“I’m done fishing for today”, I tell him. “Is it cool if I crash on your couch?”

“Hey make yourself to home there”, says Danny motioning to the couch. “Just don’t worry about that shit right now okay?”

As he’s talking we both hear a truck pulling up. It’s Rachel. She comes in the cabin without knocking, like she always does. I don’t say anything. I don’t want to see her now, but I do want to. I want to fall asleep beside her and wake up realizing what happened but not care. My stomach is twisting. I sit down on the couch and stare into my beer can like it’s a book or something. Nobody says anything at first so Rachel finally speaks up.

“I had to drive your piece of shit truck Charlie”, she’s almost laughing while she’s talking. “You guys eat yet?”

“We’re gonna eat what we just caught”, answers Danny.

I can’t look up. I want to run out the door and dive into the lake and keep swimming until I reach the other side. I want to climb up on the shore and find a place to lie down and go to sleep. Instead, I just sit here and stare into my beer can. Rachel is looking right at me while she’s talking.

“You guys are drunk. Let me cook.”

Danny just nods approval and sits down in the chair next to me, turning on the television. He turns the channel to the race and the announcer’s voice is just like when Danny was telling stories earlier, just a hum in the background. I don’t know why she’s here. Does she have something to tell me? While she’s cooking she’s talking to Danny about her brother who Danny used to work with. They’re talking about the time her brother and Danny wound up driving to Marathon and wrecking her brother’s truck because they were drinking and getting high. Rachel is laughing and looking right at me like nothing at all has happened. It’s like everything is normal, we’re just hanging out with Danny, drinking beer, cooking fish. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can’t be in the same room as her. I’ll freak out or something, I swear. I go outside and walk down to the lake. I’m sitting down on the beach and notice I don’t feel well. Nausea. I stand up and start to vomit and since all I’ve been consuming since yesterday morning is beer that’s all that comes out. I keep throwing up until all that comes out is the bitter, yellow bile from the bottom of my gut, but even then I can’t stop the heaving in my stomach. Between each heave I’m coughing and my lungs ache with each cough and then I’m heaving again, but nothing is coming out. My stomach keeps seizing and I’m coughing. I’m on my knees and my eyes are filled with water and I almost forget where I am. I’m lightheaded.

After this, I’m staggering back up to the cabin and I make it to the porch and lay down in Danny’s hammock. I close my eyes and just wish she would go away, but I know she’s still in there talking to Danny about her brother and how fucked up they all used to get together and I want to go in there and scream and cry and let her know, but I don’t. I just lay here.

“Do you want me to leave?”

She’s standing over me as she speaks. I’m not sure what time it is. I think I was sleeping.

-“I want you to stay.”

-“I mean do you want me to leave here.”

-“I don’t know.”

-“I’m going to leave.”

-“Are you going to see him tonight?”

-“I don’t know.”

-“Do you love him?”

-“Jesus Charlie. You’re drunk.”

-“You’re here for some reason.”

-“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

-“I love you Rachel.”

-“Come in and eat.”

-“Where’s Danny?”

-“Asleep on the couch.”

-“Stay here tonight.”

-“I’m leaving. The fish is on the table.”

-“I love you Rachel.”

-“Bye Charlie.”



I must have been sleeping a few hours out here on the porch. My watch says 6:45. Danny is still asleep inside the cabin. It’s hot out. The thermometer on the porch says 85 Fahrenheit. I’m feeling fairly sober. I need a swim, but I want to do it from the boat, out in the lake.

I’m out in the middle of the lake and there is no wind. It’s so quiet. I take off my shirt and shoes and dive in. I stay underwater with my eyes closed until I have to come up for air. I go back under. As I’m swimming I see her face and I see him in our room and I see them together, fucking, holding each other, laughing. I stay under and swim deeper, trying to erase what I see. I go deeper and see myself and I’m looking for her. I’m walking down a dirt road and it’s the middle of the night and I wonder where she is, and I don’t seem to understand that she’s nowhere to be found on this road, in the middle of the night, and I swim deeper and my lungs start to ache, but I stay under and the road stretches out before me in the dark and the moon is the only light, and it’s huge and orange and menacing and again I see her face and she’s laughing and I want to kiss her, but she’s looking at him and they’re together and she’s in his arms and it’s morning and they’re waking up together and a baby is crying, and she’s happy, but I’m still here, underwater. I’m almost out of air. I head for the top, kicking with my legs, pushing with my arms. Her voice is in my ear, calling my name. I can see her old car, the one she owned when we were first dating. It’ pulling up in my parent’s driveway and I’m in the front yard talking to mom and Rachel gets out of the car and she’s smiling and she’s so beautiful. Everything goes black, but I still hear her voice and I’m swimming faster. I need air.

I come to the surface and the lake is so still and the air too, but there is a sound. It’s the sound of twigs being snapped and brush being pushed aside. Something huge is coming out of the woods. It’s a moose, a cow. She’s heading straight for the water. Her head is down and she doesn’t seem to notice me or the boat. She crashes through the brush to the shore of the lake, smashing the small trees that have somehow managed to come to life in the sand of the small beach. As she lumbers into the lake a cloud of blackflies and mosquitoes flies off of her back, back into the trees. We’re about fifty feet from each other. I’m looking at her. She finally looks at me. The ripples she makes finally reach me. The only sound is the light wind in the treetops and the occasional stirring of a bird. I go back under and swim around some more then come back up for air. She’s still in the lake and up to her head by now. It’s quiet again.

I go back under a couple more times, being careful not to swim too close to her. She just wants to be where it’s cool, just like me. I’m back in the boat after a few more dives and as I start the engine she heads back to shore. The water trails off of her fur and as I pull away I see her backside disappearing into the bush. I’m heading back to camp to try and get some more sleep. I’m thinking Danny’s hammock is about the best place to sleep tonight if I don’t want to keep waking up. The heat makes it hard for me to sleep.

Danny’s waking me up. I slept all night. It’s cooler now, in the morning. It must have rained, but I didn’t hear it. Everything is wet. There’s a mist on the lake, and Danny has made some eggs.

“Let’s go fishing”, says Danny. “Those fuckers are probably hungry.”

“Yeah, fucking right”, I answer back.

After breakfast, we’re back in the boat. We cut a nice wake over to our spot by the cliffs. That’s where the big ones are.


*****


Dirt Roads and Demons Of The Night



The first time I met Francis Beacon she was laying in a ditch, half-naked, and pretty beat up. Those boys had really done a number on her those three days they held her in the woods, out at the cabin. They deserved to have their heads caved in for what they did to that poor girl. When I saw her in that ditch I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to cry or kill. I tried not to frighten her, but I wanted to get her up off the ground and into the truck.

“Hey young lady”, I said to her. “I’m here to help you, get up off that ground and get in the truck.”

“My name’s Francis Beacon”, she said. I told her that I knew who she was, that her name and picture were on the news and in the paper. She looked so scared.

“My name’s Mel. I’ll get you to town and to a hospital.”

She just shook her head signifying “yes” or “okay”. She was trembling. “They had a red car” she said. “They’re still there at the cabin.”
“Let’s just get you to town” I answered. She started crying as she stared out the passenger window of my log truck. “You can lay down in my cab…” I don’t think she heard me or she ignored me. I understood that this was probably the wrong thing to offer her.

I took her to the hospital and the staff asked me a bunch of questions while I was there, but Francis kept telling them that I helped her and that they should leave me alone because all I was doing was getting her to where she was safe. I remember the one head nurse. She was pretty young to be in charge, I thought. I knew her, she was Gary Simpson’s daughter, Rachel. Her dad used to sell me diesel before he retired. Rachel had inherited his blond hair and his arrogance. She thought her job included detective or something.

“You’re a single man aren’t you Mr. Thomas?” she asked.

My ex-wife, Renee, had left me years ago for my old business partner. I deserved it. They live in North Bay now. I didn’t answer Rachel, Francis yelled at her instead. “Leave him alone, they would have found me if he hadn’t come along!” Rachel just turned up her nose and left the room.
The doctor didn’t treat me much better. I left the room while he examined Francis and when he came back out he started in to interrogating me again.

“Hey doctor, how is she doing?”

“You said you found her in a ditch, how did you see her all the way up in your truck.” He hadn’t answered my question.

“I can show you where I found her” I was getting nervous for some reason. It had been a long day already and I still had to get my logs to the mill and now this doctor thought he was a cop. When the police finally showed up it was all straightened out. I was in the room when she told them the names of the boys who had kidnapped and raped her.

Jesse Roush and Clyde Johnson were known in town for drugs, drinking, and being worthless. Their parents were loaded. Jesse’s dad, Steve, was a contractor, a good guy, but his son never seemed interested in work. Clyde’s parents, Mary and Allen, were both bankers. Clyde had a fast car, a red Camaro. He and Jesse would drive around town all day, wasting gas and brain cells. Sometimes they would head out of town on the log roads, drinking and smoking, that’s where they found Francis.

Francis was from Sudbury originally, but she’d moved to Toronto where she was getting ready to graduate from the university and enter law school. She was out of school for the summer and was headed to the lakes to find a friend’s cabin. Francis had never been this far north before. She’d taken the wrong dirt road and before she had even figured that out the moose walked out in front of her. Her car was totaled and she had no idea where she was. That’s when Jesse and Clyde came over the hill in the Camaro.


I finally left the hospital after dark. By then some reporters were in the parking lot. The cops weren’t letting any of them in the hospital or anywhere near Francis. I didn’t want to talk to any of them so I just kept my head down and walked towards my truck. It was still parked on the other side of the ambulance bay with my load of logs that was supposed to be at the mill four hours ago. It had been hot and sunny all day, but since we’d been inside a rainstorm had kicked up. The rain stopped as I walked to my truck and the pavement crackled as the water drained. I got in the cab and turned off the radio. I drove back to the shop, parked my truck and had Kimi, my best driver, come in to work. He hauled the logs that night. I sat in my office and drank half of a bottle of rye whiskey. I didn’t feel a thing. I went home and tried to go to sleep.

Clyde Johnson’s parents bailed him out of jail the next day. Jesse’s dad left him in there until the trial started. Clyde committed suicide right after the New Year. His parents were in the Bahamas and he was out at their cabin, where he and Jesse had taken Francis. Word around town was that he’d been on a week long coke-binge. He walked out on the ice and shot himself with his Dad’s 12-gauge.

Jesse had a son with this girl from town. They were on-again off-again for years and they never did get married. In jail, Jesse lost his freedom and also access to his Dad’s wallet. That’s how he’d help pay for the kid for the last four years. His friends in town decided they wanted to help out. They held a giant party outside of town and charged for beer and food. The party was held one year to the day that Clyde and Jesse got their hands on Francis. Jesse’s friends would raise over 1200 dollars.

The next time I would see Francis is when she came back to town for Jesse’s trial, just over a year later. I was sitting in the reception area of the prosecutor’s office. I was there to give a deposition and in walked Francis. She’d cut her hair short. She was wearing a grey skirt and dark blouse. She looked like just another lawyer or clerk moving around in the halls of the municipal building, but I recognized her right away and she smiled when she saw me.
“Mel, I never had the chance to thank you for helping me.” She cup my right hand her hands and my heart sped up. “You’re welcome” that was all I could say. Her parents followed her into the room and Francis introduced us. Her Dad looked just like her, a round face with huge, friendly eyes. Her mom was taller than both of them, but Francis had her dark hair. They thanked me again and I just smiled and shook their hands.

“Wow, it looks like everyone is on time but me today.” It was the prosecutor, Mr. Primeau. He was from down south too, but he’d been in the area for the better part of ten years. “Mel, good to see you”, Donald Primeau was married to my ex’s sister, Jennifer.

“You too Don, how’s Jen, the kids?” I was shaking his hand while talking.

“Everyone’s great, how’s your mum?”

“She’s good, she misses Dad. We all do, but she’s around a lot of friends where she lives”, I noticed Francis smiling at Don and I. I’d seen that smile in her pictures that ran in the papers for those three or four days, but this was the first time I’d seen it for real. I was beginning to regret wearing a tie that day. I felt like I was slowly being choked.

“I’ll get to you soon Mel, but I need to speak to Francis first. Sorry if I’m keeping you too long.”

I told Don that I had the day off and to take as long as he needed. He was in his office with Francis and her parents for over an hour. My deposition lasted just an hour, and we were done before lunch. I thought about going back to work, maybe running a load in the evening, but instead I went fishing. The day was cloudy, but I knew walleye were biting in the river. I had caught my limit in an hour so I went out on the lake and tried for pike. The sun had come out and I caught two Northerns on a silver spoon within a half-hour. I was pulling up to shore around dusk when I noticed someone walking along the dock. It was Francis.

I put the fish in my cooler and was ready to put my boat on the trailer. She was sitting at the end of the dock staring out across the lake. She hadn’t noticed me. I wasn’t sure if I should approach her or not. I put my rods and tackle in the truck and when I turned around she was gone from the dock. She was coming up behind me.

“Hi Mel, did you catch any fish?” She was wearing jeans and a black top, sandals too.

“Oh yeah, they’re biting tonight. Do you fish?” My stomach was in my throat.

“No, but my Dad likes to think he can.” We both laughed, nervously.

“Well, as long as you’re all in town let him know that I’ll take him out anytime in the evening. I’m usually working during the day.” She smiled and looked at the ground, kicking a small rock against my tire.

“They’re both leaving tomorrow. They’ll be back when the trial starts. I’m staying out at Mrs. Primeau’s cabin.”

She meant Don’s mother. I knew right where the cabin was. When I was married to Renee I’d helped Don build a dock out there. It took all day, but Mrs. Primeau fed us well. Don’s mom had died the year before, and he hadn’t sold the cabin. I guess he was going to let Francis and her parents stay there during the trial.

All I told Francis was, “Yeah, it’s nice out there.” She looked puzzled, but then nodded. We both stood there for a few seconds, in silence, so I just asked her. “Hey, I haven’t loaded the boat yet, you want to go for a ride across the lake?”

“Sure, let me call Dad first, he’s probably wondering where I am.”

As she was on the phone I pulled the boat up to shore. She sat in the middle. We went across the bay and past the old mill. Francis looked straight ahead, the wind blowing her hair back. A couple of times, she turned around to smile at me. She pointed to a couple of loons flying next to the boat and laughed when I turned the bow into our wake, bouncing the boat across the waves.

Renee and I would fish in the evenings. When we were first married, I would come home and Renee would already have the gear packed with a cooler of beer ready to go. We would fish until dusk and eat our catch for dinner the next night. Renee was working for the bank and I was driving all day. I met Olivia two-years after I got married. She had moved to town to work in the mill. Her husband had left her and she had two kids, but I thought she was sexy. Renee found out about our affair through my business partner, Ed McKinnon. I don’t blame him for telling her. They were friends before we were married and I guess he would only lie to her for so long.

Renee and I separated after just 30 months of marriage. I had told her that I ended it with Olivia, but one night she saw my pick-up outside Olivia’s apartment. She left me for good the next day. A year later, Renee and Ed were living together. Ed and I remained business partners through the divorce, but once it was final they married pretty fast. He sold me his half of the business and used the money to buy him and Renee a house in North Bay. Last I heard Ed was selling Ski-Doos and playing a lot of golf. They have a son named Wesley.

I made a couple of trips to the center of the lake. Within a half-hour I had Francis and the boat back to shore.

“Thanks Mel, I’ll probably see you around” she was walking towards her rental car and waving goodbye. I got home that night, drank three beers and fell asleep in front of the TV, woke up and went to work the next day.

I wouldn’t have to testify and neither would Francis. Adding together her deposition and the physical evidence, Jesse didn’t stand a chance. He plead guilty on the first day of jury selection, four days after Francis had come to town. Don called me on my cell phone and told me what had happened. I was on the road, halfway home from a morning run to the pulp mill. I wouldn’t see Francis again for two years.

The prosecutor’s office dropped the kidnapping charge in exchange for the plea agreement so Jesse Roush was sent to jail for ten years. The conviction was aggravated sexual assault. The next summer, Jesse’s friends held the party again, on that same day. That year, they made tee-shirts to sell, along with the beer and food. The next year they had a band and it was so big they had to rent port-o-johns. All the kids in town were out there. They raised more money than ever. The party even had a name – “Cabin Fever” – that’s what it said on the shirts.

I kept driving everyday, except Sundays. That winter seemed colder and longer than any I had remembered. There was a train wreck that January, cutting the town in half for a couple of days. The mills shut down on account of striking workers. My mother died in February. She’d had a stroke and was gone within three days. A week after mom died, Kimi wrecked a truck on his way home from Terrace Bay and nearly killed himself. In March, the apartment building where Olivia used to live burned down. I sat in the parking lot with Gary Simpson and watched the flames while drinking coffee. Sometimes I’d have dreams about finding Francis in that ditch, but other times I’d dream about riding with her in the boat. Most of the time, I didn’t remember my dreams.


Two years later, I was out fishing with Gary. Rachel was getting married the next day. The groom, Stephan Dupont, worked for me. She was pregnant, and had left her live-in boyfriend not a month before. Gary wanted to get out of the house while his wife and her sisters were around. I’d taken the day off and we were catching a lot of walleye up in the river, by the dam. We fished until 7:00 and when we got close to town our cell phones found their signal again. They both beeped, indicating messages. I didn’t check mine until we’d loaded the boat. The first few were the usual, trucks were late, drivers were late, gas was running low. It was the last message that nearly stopped my heart.

“Hi Mel, this is Francis Beacon. I hope you don’t mind but I got your cell number from the lady at your shop. I just wanted to let you know that I was in town and I’d like to see you. Give me a call”, and she left her number. I went home and showered and drank a beer. I checked the message again to make sure I was hearing things right. So I called her. She sounded happy to hear from me and wanted to meet for a drink. I was out the door as soon as we hung up.

The tavern was nearly empty. The Blue Jays were playing on TV, and a couple of truckers were sitting at the bar drinking red-eyes. Francis was already sitting at a table when I arrived. She was alone, as best as I could tell. She smiled and waved as I walked over and sat down.

“Can I get you a beer?” she asked.

“Yeah, a Canadian, with a glass” I told her.

She’d grown her hair out again. She was wearing camouflage shorts and a white tee-shirt with sandals. She smelled nice. The small talk took awhile, parents, weather, the drive up. She was visiting her friend’s cabin for a bridal shower the next day. After another beer she started to loosen up, me too

“I just wanted to tell you Mel that I dreaded coming up here for this, but it’s nice to see you. I’ll never forget what you did for me that day. And I still remember the boat ride.”

“Yeah, I was just out fishing today. We caught a few. If you get the time we should go out…on the lake”, she smiled at my nervousness.

“Yeah, that’d be cool”, she was picking at the label on her beer bottle.

We drank one more each and then we left. She said she would give me a call about that boat ride and I turned my back to my car as she pulled out of the parking lot. I went home and didn’t sleep until the sun came up. The next day I almost drove my truck into the ditch, I was so tired. I didn’t hear from her again for six months when she sent me an invitation to her wedding in Toronto. I wrote her back and told her I couldn’t make it, what with work and all, but I sent her and her groom some stoneware as a present.

The next summer Jesse’s friends threw the party again. The location had changed this year, it was on McNeil Lake, the same lake that Don Primeau’s cabin sits on, his mother’s old cabin. Don needed help mending the dock and he invited me over, promising dinner that night. Jennifer acted glad to see me. After dinner Don and I sat on the newly mended-dock and fished. We weren’t catching much, but the beer was disappearing fast. We could hear the kids across the lake, the music, the drunken howls. We could see the bonfire and the shadows dancing around it to the throbbing rhythm of the DJ’s system. After midnight someone lit off fireworks on the beach. We could still hear the music and voices when we went to bed. I slept in Don’s spare room and headed back to town the next morning. That Monday as I was running errands I noticed kids around town with their new “Cabin Fever” t-shirts. Jesse Roush was paroled that winter.



© 2008 Craig M. Skinner

Birds and rain filled the sky. It was normal for the birds to hide when it rained, but not on this day. They were leaving, just as I was. The food was gone and I had to find more. I was lucky. I had no family and no real duty to the village where I lived. The others had families, reasons to stay. I followed the birds.

By the first day the rain had stopped. The birds were still going west, as was I. I had snared a small rabbit in the night and with the rainless morning I was able to cook it over a fire. I filled my stomach with rabbit and rainwater. A new day had begun.

The famine had started three months before. The elders said the land was cursed. The crops failed because the village had fallen out of favor with the Great Spirit. The moose and grouse had gone away, sensing the curse upon the land. The villagers had lived as if food and plenty was not a blessing but instead an expectation. It was taken for granted that moose meat would fill tables and corn would bolster stews. No longer did the villagers tell the great stories of the bear, the lynx, and divine creation. The children grew up never knowing how to dance and chant in thanks for the many blessings placed upon the village.

The first signs of trouble came before the spring. No moose had been seen since the first winter’s snow. Many of the villagers had saved salted meat, but this soon ran out. The village hunters had managed to provide enough grouse until the spring, but once the snow had melted and the ground had thawed these birds were gone as well. One night, as the hunters sat around a fire in on the outskirts of the village, an elder named Wakiza approached and told them of his vision. Wakiza said he had seen the grouse and moose following a giant cat towards the Great Spirit. He said the Spirit was calling them away from the village and they were never to return. A hunter named Hassun called the old man a fool. Hassun said Wakiza’s superstition was scaring the villagers and he needed to find a way to provide the village with food rather than spouting fables and nonsense.

By mid-summer it was obvious that the crops had failed. A drought had dried up the rivers and the lake had shrunk to half its size. What few fish that remained were soon eaten. It was obvious that the village would be next to disappear. Forget surviving the winter, my people would not make it through autumn’s first frost.

One late summer night, the elders called a village meeting. Wakiza spoke first and told the other villagers that the Great Spirit had abandoned the land. He said that by not acknowledging the presence of this power the villagers had allowed its protection to vanish. Again, the hunter named Hassun told the elders that their primitive beliefs could not help the village. Hassun said that the elders were blaming the village’s suffering on the people themselves. Another hunter named Tate spoke up and said that the elders did not understand how difficult it was to farm and hunt. Tate said all the elders did was chant and dance and asked what good had this done. Finally, the village Chieftain spoke up. He said the famine could not be the fault of the villagers. The Chieftain banished the elders for inciting fear and promoting superstition. The next day, the elders were gone.

That afternoon, I was in the forest searching for berries, roots, anything to eat. A small child named Wapi approached and told me a story. Wapi had been woken up by a voice during the night. He thought he heard his sister calling him outside to play. She had died the week before. Once the boy was outside he noticed Wakiza and the elders following a giant cat out of the village, under the midnight moon. I told the child to not repeat this story. The hunters held great influence over the Chieftain and they would surely banish anyone who spread such fantastic stories.

Two weeks later, the rain started. It rained until what little crops were growing washed away. It rained and filled the river, but the fish did not return. The lake filled with the rain but not so much as a beaver was seen upon its shores. Children began to die in greater numbers. Husbands were leaving their families in search of food. Women prayed and cried in the streets. Still the rain continued. The river flooded the fields. The lake bore only mosquitoes. Our village was truly cursed.

The hunters demanded patience. Their long journeys bore no food, but still they explored the forest surrounding the village. Two weeks after the rain began the hunters returned and one man was missing. Hassun told his wife he had drowned in the river. That night all of the hunter’s families enjoyed a little bit of stew with meat. I was a farmer with no family. The hunters would not hesitate to make me their next meal. I woke up the next morning and noticed the birds flying west. I followed the birds out of the village.


I was only one day out of the village when I snared that rabbit. Why had the hunters not found any meat? Had they not journeyed far enough? Had their hunger blinded them to an obvious catch? After my morning meal of rabbit I kept walking, following the birds. Soon I found wild berries and mushrooms to eat. I found a small pond filled with perch, jumping at dragonflies and mosquitoes. Within moments I had caught three fish with my bare hands. After lunch, the rain cleared and with the sunlight came the sounds of partridge. I made a sling from my shirt and hunted grouse until dusk. Dinner that evening was roasted bird with fish and mushroom stew. I drank from a spring and snacked on berries under the moonlight. I was not two days out of the village. I wondered if I should go home and tell the villagers of this place. Then I heard the voice. It sounded like my mother, but younger than I remember her sounding. Her voice was lilting like a bedtime melody.

I followed the voice past the pond and into the forest. After following for several moments I came upon a clearing illuminated by the moon. In the middle sat a giant lynx. She was the size of a moose. I should have been terrified, but I remembered the story Wapi had told me. The cat turned and headed west, into the forest. I followed her all night. I followed her through the sunrise and into the dawn of morning. I followed her into the heat of noon, but I was neither hot nor hungry. Just before sunset we came to a valley and on the other side lay the most beautiful range of mountains I have ever seen.

Just as I was gazing into the valley the cat turned around to face me. As her eyes met mine she disappeared, evaporating slowly like a puddle in the summer sun. I was alone but not afraid. I walked into the valley and soon found berries and water. That evening I feasted on plump rabbit stew. I sensed this valley was a place for me to wait.

I lived in this valley for three days. The first day I had a breakfast of berries and wild rice. Lunch was brook trout and mushrooms. I made a spear from stones and a pine branch and for dinner I was able to kill a white-tail deer. This kill was too much for me to eat, but I hoped whoever I was waiting for would come along to help me eat it. For the next two days I ate and hunted, each time thanking the Great Spirit for the bounty of the valley, but I was missing my home and my people. Why should I live in a land of plenty while women and children were starving?

The third night in the valley I saw a glorious sunset. My stomach was full of rice with venison gravy. After dinner I had sassafras tea sweetened with berry juice. I tried to sleep, it had been so long it seemed. The voices and darkness of sleep had just begun to swirl in my head when I awoke to a clap of thunder. I had not anticipated rain and had built no shelter. Luckily, the storm was not close. It was in the mountains, but the thunder echoed through the valley, making the storm seem right upon me.

I heard movement in the brush behind me. The giant cat had returned. She came up beside me and right away I understood that she wanted me to follow her. It was dawn by the time we reached the base of the mountains. The cat rested and I offered her some deer meat I had carried for the trip, but she refused. Once again she vanished into the air, an apparition.

I understood that I must climb the mountain on my own. I had quick lunch of deer and wild raspberries that I found along a mountain stream. I filled my water pouch and began my ascension. I reached the middle of my climb by sunset. I was contemplating setting up camp, but something seemed to be pulling me towards the top of this mountain. The moon and stars were my only companions as I reached the summit. There was no view except the heavens and a dark expanse below that I understood to be the valley. I wasn’t cold, but the air was thinner. It seemed like years since I had seen the village, it had been four days.

Just as I expected the cat appeared again. She sat and waited for me to approach her. I stroked her chin and she returned a deep purr in response. She sat up and headed away from me. I followed her down a path the opposite to where I had reached the summit. After walking for what seemed like only a few moments we came to the mouth of a cave. The cat sat at the entrance and I knew I was to enter alone. It was so dark but I went forward. All I could hear was my breath and heart. Darkness and breath and steadily cooling air, this was how my journey was to end?

I couldn’t see the cave’s mouth anymore and I knew the cat would not come in after me. I didn’t even know which way I was going. It didn’t matter. Fate had brought me this far. It was then that I saw a dim light ahead. The further I walked the brighter it became. It was not the flickering light of a fire, but the steady glow of the sky, as if the sun itself was here in this mountain cave. It was then that I realized that the cave’s trail had brought me outside the mountain to a terrace filled with trees and shallow grass. The sun was coming up and it was there that I heard the voice of the Great Spirit. The air was so still, neither a bird nor leaf stirred. It was there in the otherworldly-still of that morning light that the Great Spirit spoke to me and only me. The voice was neither inside me nor outside. It surrounded everything and vibrated through the very ground, through the trees and its breath flowed with the wind.

“Ishago, you are a humble yet strong and worthy man. You have come so far in so short a time. You have understood that fate brought you to this place. You trusted in me as I have in you.

Long ago, before your father’s fathers lived, I blessed your people with grace, wisdom, and plenty. All I asked for in return was acknowledgement. Instead your people have forgotten this blessing. The hunters in your village began to think that their prey was a result of their skill. They forgot that I provide the animals, the fish, the fruits of the land. Their only duty was to harvest what they needed and to give thanks through dance and song. Instead they mocked those who attempted to fulfill this small price.

I have not cursed your village. Your people have. But you are here. You understand the importance of fate and reverence to the power of creation. I cannot bring back the moose and grouse. I cannot heal the damaged land. The famine is the result of man, not me. By forgetting about me your people have turned their back on the land that feeds them. As I do not exist, neither does my creation.

Go find your friend the cat. She will show you the way home. Your people need you.”

Though it seemed the Great Spirit only spoke for a few moments it was sunset by the time the voice became silent. From out of the mouth of the cave came the cat and she was followed by my village elders. They began to dance and sing. Their song told of the Great Spirit and the creation of the universe. The song told of the darkness and how the Great Spirit’s light would always shine through. They sang for the trees and roots. They sang for the moose and grouse. They sang for the wind and rain. They sang for the unity of creation. And just as they had appeared, they vanished, their song resonating through the mountain peaks and valley below.

The cat brought me down the mountain to a lake and the mouth of a river. The cat had brought me to a large grove of birch trees and I began to collect their bark for tea and fire. Further back from the river stood tall-pine, untouched by any men. It was there on the shore of that rushing river that the Great Spirit seemed to speak to me again, not with words, but with visions. I saw a round-bottomed raft made of bark with a man at each end. I was very tired and I wasn’t sure what to make of this vision.

After a meal of wild rice and mushrooms I began to build the raft I had envisioned. It was as if my hands didn’t belong to me. It was as if the Great Spirit itself was tying the bark together with roots and sealing the raft with pine resin. The shape in my head began to take form. The raft was pointed at both ends and round on the bottom. It took me two days to build the boat and another half-day to fashion a log into the shape of an oar.

I rested on the fourth day and loaded the raft with food for my journey home. The night before I left I dreamt of a beautiful woman. Her shadow darkened my doorway on a sunny day. I offered her tea and tobacco. Her eyes were the same as the cat that had brought me so far from home. I loved her in an instant and in an instant she was gone. I was awake. A mosquito had broken the dream’s spell by piercing my cheek. Couldn’t the Great Spirit have rested on the day that mosquitoes were created?




The blood-sucker on my cheek wasn’t the only reminder that I was awake. The gnawing hunger in my stomach reminded me of where I was. I was home, in the village. I was in my tiny shack, in my bed. I had never left home. The food, the giant lynx, the Great Spirit, even the boat, it had all been a dream. I was so hungry I could barely stand, but I managed to get out of bed. It was then that I realized that my dream was in fact a vision. That morning I boiled the last of my moccasins for breakfast and headed over to the birch grove. I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon in great hunger, but I was able to muster the strength to gather large pieces of bark. I yanked saplings from the ground and collected their roots.

All of this activity had made me weak so I built a small fire and boiled some water and bark for soup. As I sat among the birch, eating my small lunch, Wapi and his father, Elan, approached. They were also looking for bark to boil. Wapi was emaciated, but somehow able to walk. Elan was a fellow farmer. We had known each other our entire lives.

“Hey there, Igasho. Are you going to eat all that bark? How about sharing?” Elan was gazing hungrily at my pile of bark as he spoke.
“Hey yourself, Elan. Take all the bark you want, but leave me the big pieces. I’m building a boat.”

Elan looked puzzled, but Wapi seemed to understand right away. The child started gathering roots as I began to arrange the larger pieces. After Elan and Wapi ate their bark they asked me how they could help. I showed them how to arrange and shape the bark, using the memories of my dream to guide our work. By sundown we had assembled many pieces of bark and a flat version of our boat was beginning to take shape. As Elan prepared a dinner of bark soup, Wapi helped me hide the boat under some leaves so any unwelcome visitors would not disturb it. We all decided to camp in the birch grove that night and continue our work in the morning.

By the next afternoon our patching and sewing was complete and we were ready to seal and shape the boat with sap. Wapi and I gathered sap as Elan prepared a lunch of bark soup and dried willows to smoke. The soup was keeping us alive, but the willows were helping our stomachs forget how empty they were. By the time the sun dropped behind the forest, our boat was complete and we were all so tired that we couldn’t speak. Wapi was so much weaker than when he and his father came upon me. Elan and I decided that we should make sure our boat floats and leave under the moonlight. If we did not find food soon, the boy would not live past morning.

Elan made a final meal of bark soup and smoked some more willow. We needed paddles. As Elan cooked I went into the village and stole two spears from a hunter’s shack. After dinner Elan and I tied several large pieces of sealed bark to the spears. These would have to do. We loaded Wapi into our boat and headed west. We paddled until dawn and through the next day. We lived on what was left of our strength. The Great Spirit was truly guiding us and keeping us alive as we had no food to explain for our strength. We paddled for another day. We realized that Wapi was nearly dead. The current was taking us and we decided to rest and let our boat take us where it may.

We all three fell into a deep sleep. I dreamt again of the woman. She was smiling and offering me her hand. When I awoke I knew I was no longer in a dream. The pain in my stomach let me know this. Elan was already awake and holding Wapi in his arms. Wapi had not lived through the night. We pulled the boat ashore and as Elan performed the ceremonial rights of our tribe, I dug a shallow grave with my hands and a flat rock. Elan never cried, but was silent the rest of the day. Once again we fell asleep in the boat, under the stars, our hunger bringing us closer to where Wapi had gone.

“Hey Igasho, where are we, how long have we been drifting?” Elan was awake.

“I’ve never been this far down the river before Elan”, I said. “I hope there’s food around here somewhere or this boat will be our grave.” I glanced apologetically at Elan, realizing what I had just said, but his eyes were peering into the distance.

“Smoke”, said Elan.

He was right. There was smoke rising beyond a bend in the river. We paddled harder. I was so weak, but the thought of what that smoke meant seemed to numb the hunger pains and make my heart beat faster.

Around the bend was a village. The women were gathered around the riverside with their babies. They were washing clothes and their children. I don’t know how far we had traveled in the night, but the current must have been stronger than Elan and I had noticed. I had walked down the river’s shore many times in my life and had never noticed any sign of another village being near. As we pulled our boat up on the shore one of the women ran to the village and returned with several men.

As Elan and I pulled on to the shore and climbed from the boat, I felt myself begin to die. I collapsed right there on the bank of the river. When I awoke I was under a tree and a beautiful woman was offering me sassafras tea with honey. It was the woman in my dream.

“Am I dreaming again or am I dead?” I asked.

“You should be dead” answered the woman. “Both you and Elan should be dancing with the Great Spirit. Now, drink this tea and we’ll try to get some food into you.”

“You know of the Great Spirit?” I asked, gazing into her eyes.

“Of course I do”, she answered. “Just as I know of the wind, rain, sun and snow.”

“What is your name?”, I asked.

“I am Meda. The Chieftain is my father.”

“Hello Meda, I am Igasho.”

“I know”, she said. “I heard your name in my dreams.”

That night a feast was held in our honor. Elan and I told the village Chieftain, a man named Maska, of the famine in our land. We told him of our hardship and of Wapi’s death. The Chieftain listened to our words and then he spoke.

“Ishago and Elan, what you have told me about your village and your people is a story shrouded in a great darkness. This is the kind of darkness that invades a man’s soul on that loneliest of nights, when his mind betrays him and it seems as if the sun shall never shine again. My daughter has seen this darkness as well. She has told me of her dream in which she is crawling through a tunnel, searching for the Great Spirit, only to find a deep cavern where breath and sound can never escape.

The death of a child is the death of a village. If we cannot keep our children alive then what point is there for us to live? Elan, you have lost two children to hunger, but you have saved yourself. For some reason you and Ishago are here. The Great Spirit has brought you to our shore and by doing so has saved your lives. Honor him tonight as we dance and sing.

When Meda’s mother died I felt as if the Creator had cursed me, but I learned to understand that life is a gift that we must enjoy and not expect. Your village has come to expect food and plenty and by doing so it has lost its soul.

Ishago and Elan, you have begun the process of restoring the soul of your village. Instead of going insane with hunger you have worked to create something that can help. This boat you have built, it is like nothing I have ever seen. My village is strong and healthy, but soon we will outgrow ourselves. We need new hunting grounds, new rivers to fish, or we will find our soul lost, just as your village has.

We will give you as much food as you can pack in to that boat, but in return you must do something for us. You must tell your people of your journey, and you must build more boats. We will trade you all of the moose and corn you like for these boats. Our villages will finally be connected through the river.

Rest tonight. In the morning, you shall return home and tell your people what you have seen and how you can help them. I ask the Great Spirit for mercy and that there is someone left to hear your tale.”

Elan and I had loaded the boat with food and paddled home. We paddled for two days and reached the village on the morning of the third. We beached the craft before reaching the village, not knowing what we would find. Everything was so quiet. We smelled smoke from a fire and followed the scent. A young woman named Aponi was boiling water for her crying child to drink. As I approached she recognized me, she knew the stride of a man not dying of hunger.

“Ishago”, Aponi cried. “Where have you been?” Instead of saying anything I reached into my pouch and pulled out the dried meat I had brought with me. Her eyes widened and she instinctively held her hands out. Elan had brought along some corn meal and began to prepare some mash for the crying baby.

The village smelled of death. No children were playing outside. No women were washing their babies in the river. According to Aponi, the hunters had left a week before, never to be seen again. The Chieftain had disappeared in the night, leaving his family behind. This was a village that was waiting to die.

Elan and I brought our boat to the shores of the village and unloaded the food. Aponi went to each of the households and told people that there would be food to eat today, that Elan and I had enough to feed everyone. This was true, of the nearly 500 people who once lived in this village barely 100 were left. Everyone else had either died or disappeared.

With the help of Aponi, Elan and I prepared a great feast. We ate until sunset and then I spoke to the villagers. I told of my vision, of our boat and our journey down the river. We told them of Maska’s village, the food, and how Maska wanted more boats from us. The remaining men quickly decided that they would help Elan and I build more boats, that our village would fulfill Maska’s offer.

The next day the building of the boats began. Once the first few were built my guidance was no longer needed. Within three days the men had built twenty boats. But a strange thing was occurring. As the days went by, as we continued to build we began to notice changes. The clouds that had so long obscured the sun began to disappear. The grasses in the fields surrounding the village began to change back to green. The birds began to return.

Once the men had built twenty boats, Elan and I tethered them together and set out for Maska’s village. He was elated to see so many boats and he let us keep two in order to fill them with food and return home. Within two moons our village had traded enough boats with Maska that we were able to store food for the coming winter. But this was not the only way we fed ourselves. Our journeys down the river had helped us find new hunting grounds, new berry patches, and new ponds and lakes to fish from.

As for me, I discovered a friendship between myself and Maska’s daughter, Meda. This friendship slowly became one of love, just after the next year’s harvest we married. I had assumed the position of Chieftain in my village. Meda was my wife, and she would be the mother of my children. My village was saved through Meda’s vision. My village was saved through Elan’s strength and patience.

Now, my people perform the dances and sing the songs, but we have a new dance, a new song. We have a dance and song that tells the tale of a great cat and a village haunted by death. The dance tells of a great journey that never was and a vision that brought back the sun and birds. The dance and song tells the tale of how our people began to build and trade boats for food and how we saved ourselves by acknowledging the guidance of the Great Spirit. The song and dance is called Canoe, and that is what we call this boat. “Canoe”, we all sing. We sing in thanks and in praise.



© 2008 Craig Skinner