"El Surfeador" by Ladislao Loera
On Devil's Night, the night before Halloween, I was at the outpost doing some late night editing. The air had a funny feeling about it - the fine hairs on my arms were standing up like a porcupine's quills alerting to danger. The surf bus starting spontaneously beeping ... beep ... beeeeeeeeep ... beeeeeeeeeeep. I felt I was being watched and if I put the binoculars up to my eyes, there would be eyes staring back at me. Then the bird started calling again, but the sound seemed even more urgent. "Jayyyyyyyy youuuuuuuuu." I'm not Jay, I said aloud to the sound. No one answered back.
TO BE CONTINUED......
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment