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(This was for a hitrecord.org challenge to write a campfire story in regards to our National Park system.)

In 1906, President Theodore Roosevelt signed a bill creating Mesa Verde National Park. Situated in Southwestern Colorado, the park houses handfuls of canyons that cut the through the dry mesa revealing the ancient clay cliff dwellings that are built into its sides. Although varying in size, none of the structures come short of extraordinary. The limits of construction and accessibility to create these hidden Ancestral Puebloan palaces is wonder of its own to observe.

Guided by park officials, you can walk through the abandoned abodes, manageable only through a series of ladders and steep canyon ledges. And yet, as you pass through the key-holed doorways and circle the ceremonial Kivas, one tends to get the feeling that another may be watching, hidden within the dark caverns that you don’t explore.

There are many theories as to why Ancestral Puebloans left their skillful and strategic homes. Though it is called Mesa Verde, green is far from the color you see when exploring this park. Overrun with mountain shrubs, junipers, and pinyon pines, the mesa appears to thirst for water. Is that what drove the people away?

Or is there another reason? Evidence shows that many of the “spiritual doorway” of the dwellings had been sealed shut and even Kivas burned. Was there something these people sought to destroy or escape from but found the only way out was to leave? Perhaps fear drove them out of these magnificent homes? And if that’s true, could this dark spirit still remain among the ruins?

Some say to never stay close to the canyon’s edge on a full moon’s night. For when the moonlight crosses the doorways left unsealed, something shadowy rises from beneath it. Upwards, it climbs the vertical walls, clinging to the gasping roots that sprout from the clay. They say it seeks the living to partake in a drink of the soul.

The unsuspecting are always the first to be caught in its murky haze. Left paralyzed by the darkness, they surrender to the spirit, joining it to forever dwell in maze of caverns below the solid ground. Never again to look upon the face of the sun.



(For a hitrecord.org challenge with slight edits)

The smell of your
still lingers
on the sheets,
in the bed.

It cloaks my nights.
Brings my dreams to
toss and turn.

I come hungry
for the impossible.
I wake tired
and reckless.


(For a hitrecord.org challenge)
I went to the cabin.
You know?
The one by Gossamer Lake.

So many years.

We picked dandelions,
and blew wishes into the wind.
Nights spent holding each other tight,
surrounded by the song of cicadas.
Meals cooked barely keeping our hands

It seemed such a happy place.
Warmth and love.

But you took her here too?
I know.

There is an unfamiliar sweater on the couch.
A glass with lipstick smeared on the rim.
I would never do that.

An air of a sultry perfume
mixes with the gasoline
that I have poured around.

I breath it in.
All of it.
And I burn it to the ground.