COLD MOON

 

It was a cold, silver spoon, kind of moon, full of itself, and out-shined the stars on a sharp, chill, desert night. Ralph lay huddled in a shallow ravine, pressed against the warm clay wall, it’s day spent baking in the sun, and it radiated like a brick oven. Discovery of the phenomena has significantly altered Ralph’s daily existence by allowing him to endure the cold and stay warm. Then the winds picked up and skimmed the tip top of the bluff, scattering sand and tumbleweed overhead, like a surfer in the tube, he tucked inside the warm cusp of the crease just below the curling, swirling, blasts, enduring only a hint of the pending sandstorm, and finally he drifted off to slumber.

Next thing he knew, he was jarred awake by a noise he did not recognize. Something snapped him from his deep sleep and his consciousness rose quickly, to break through the surface of reality. His eyes shot open to reveal the moon, now hovering overhead like some light-bulb in the sky. The night now grown still, but much, much colder. He listened hard, anticipating an echo to return, in hopes of recognition. It did not. He lifted his head above the short ridge and smelled the sulfurous waft of smoke drifting by at it’s own pace. Had the wind been up, the scent would be in Arizona by now, but in this desert stillness, smells linger, only to fade, like every other thing, in it’s own time. Still fresh, it had to have come only a short way away, in the wake of that sound - Gunshot.

Someone was out here shooting. Wait for another shot, but it never came. Why only one shot? Could be their last round shot off, closing out a clip, or a load. A hunter on his way back from Utah, making sure he did not take a loaded gun back home, popping one off. Of course there could be another, darker option. He  resisted the thought that perhaps it was the only shot the shooter needed. The mission may now be complete. Both scenarios were viable explanations. Maybe some drunken kid, or kids…but still, just that one shot? Why come all the way out here? That’s when it struck him - it had to be the darker option. Out here is exactly where that would be. Even in the full moonlight, who was around to see?

But had he? He thought he heard it, but cannot swear to it. He smelt the residue of the crime…if there was a crime. And there’s no crime without the body. Was it his job to substantiate this? This what? Ralph slid back down and curled up fetal. He had to think about that awhile. Was it his job to seek out someone else’s atrocity? And who could he tell that wouldn’t look at him askew and wonder. If it was suicide, then they’ll have to wait. But what if there’s a ‘shooter”, and where was the shooter this minute?  Then the engine roared, in answer to his question, and the vehicle rumbled it’s way back to the highway. Ralph could only see the taillights, and they were in no hurry. It would do no good to call out, it was too far gone and would only lead to trouble.

He waited for daylight, sleepless with the grim prospects of the task awaiting him. 

V