Wild Confines

by Shauna Checkley

Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

part 1

Paris Jade had always collected secrets. As a young child, she would stash small objects and slips of paper in hidden spots like a crow with her cache. She would revisit the special places over and over. It made her world secretive, favored, and free.

These days, she still stashed things. But instead of stickers or tiny trolls with multicolored hair or precious gems and rocks, she held snatches of conversation, ugly thoughts, staggering innuendo in her own deep compartments. Her interior self often chattered inanely, nattering within.

At the moment, though, she was distracted by the weather. Pulling back the ruffled, pink curtain, she peered out the camper window. She saw menacing cloud formations, a darkening prairie sky and wind like a million whirling dervishes let loose upon the land. All was suggestion, destruction. All was yet to come.

Looks like one helluva storm is brewing... Tornado maybe... Will we be blown to Oz? Paris Jade didn’t speak her fears aloud. She didn’t dare. There were Emerald and Jewel to consider. They were three years old. Twins. They wouldn’t know what a tornado was. Still, she didn’t wish to speak fear into their souls; they’d already had enough of that in their brief lives. Between her and Rob and Grandma Shauna, enough grief had been had.

Cuddled together in bed, the sisters were like one sprawling, conjoined twin, a little mass of arms and legs. Paris Jade considered them for a moment then looked away. Weren’t we always told to go to the basement if there was a tornado scare? Well, there’s no basement here, so I won’t disturb them. I’ll just leave them to sleep. That’s all.

Satisfied that she had done the right thing. Paris Jade poured the last of the coffee into her mug, the white one with the letter P on it. It was the only thing she drank from these days, items being scarce in the cramped camper.

* * *

When Owen headed down to his basement, he heard each of the wooden steps groan in complaint. He smelled that dusty, dank odor, like a chemistry lab. He was holding a cat in each arm: Calvin and Cordelia. He set them down, and they shot off in different directions. Then he read his cellphone.

Environment Canada issues a severe storm warning. Tornado alert in the following Saskatchewan communities: Lumsden, Regina Beach, Craven, Grand Coulee, Regina, Belle Plaine, Pilot Butte.

Crap! Sure, hope it passes us by!

He walked past the rumble bed, neatly made up with a green plaid blanket on it. And spying the gray metal stool in the corner, Owen went and sat down on it.

Calvin, his overweight tabby, trundled over to him. The cat licked and sniffed his bare toes.

Owen then clicked on his favorite truther blog. Big Daddy Illuminati. He stroked his straggly, blond beard and read about the reptilian alien menace versus David Icke.

Since he usually ventured down to the basement only out of necessity, he enjoyed this foray even though there was an underpinning of possible danger. The threat of destruction put a keen edge on an otherwise uneventful evening. He could hear the wind acting up like a brutal kickboxer. The world was rearranging, and nature was cleaning house.

* * *

Paris Jade plunked herself back at the window and watched, fascinated. Storms had the same effect on her as secrets: a cheap thrill like no other. Goosebumps running down her arm. Almost like shooting up.

She recalled the time she had been tweaking all day and then stole a car. The keys had been left in it, and she was out on the sidewalk while the rain pelted in fluted streams in a torrential downpour. Taking the car seemed to be the only reasonable thing to do. She drove it across town, ditched it a block away from where she lived, and sprinted the rest of the way home. Inside, she collapsed soaking wet on her bare, stained mattress.

Those were the days, my friend...

Returning to the storm outside her window, Paris Jade watched the wind flatten the wheat in the field. Moving over the land in harsh gulps, the mouth of nature was unforgiving. Stalks swayed as though they were spelling out a secret language in Chinese characters or in cuneiform.

Is this how crop circles are formed? Maybe the aliens or demons or whatever makes them will abduct the snakes that live under our camper floor. That would rock!

Wide-eyed, she watched. The sky was a dark gray wall. “Only worry if it gets a greenish tint,” she could hear Rob say. Back when they were still together, back when they used to storm-chase for kicks on days off from the Rib Shack. It was that and binge drinking or playing the VLT’s, Yes, Rob or “the Big Sexy” as he referred to himself.

Is that the sky or is it just a bad green screen shot? Maybe a pixel or two missing.

She took a large gulp of coffee, and her tongue stung. Too hot! She touched the tip on her upper lip.

Like a sentinel to another world, Paris Jade stationed herself at the window watching the celestial show for the rest of that evening. It was only when she heard the snakes crawling under the floorboards that she gave up and went to bed.

They all tell me that the snakes are just a delusion, drug-induced damage. My case worker. Mom. All of them. But I wonder. Hmmm... they seem pretty real at times.

In her sleep, she left one funky, psychedelic world for another. She dreamt of serpentine wonders where the living bled into the dead, where waking and sleeping were so interchangeable she could hardly discern a difference. She grooved to an ouroboros orchestra, bejewelled and cloaked. Her head was a warring playground. Life shone gold, silver, red. All was both possible and unthinkable.

* * *

Paris Jade woke to a pounding. It took her a while to notice that the rat-a-tat-tat wasn’t just in her head. The metallic camper door shook on its hinges. Are the snakes coming through the damn door? Gotta take a look.

Flinging it wide open, she was assaulted by a blast of morning light. There was a man standing there. Behind him was a big black truck with mud flaps decorated with naked ladies. “Lady, can I ask what you are doing? This is my field, and you can’t just squat here.”

Paris Jade frowned.

The dude was chewing gum so conservatively that he barely moved his lips. His skin was red, and weather-beaten, almost scaly. The back of his hands had liver spots.

“I’m just staying for a while, y’know.”

“You’ve been here for days. I farm here. So I’d appreciate it if you just move on.” He spoke matter-of-factly. But she could read the look on his face: pity and contempt.

Squinting into the sun, Paris Jade nodded.

He turned, went to his truck, and drove off.

Paris Jade stuck out her tongue.

That’s when she saw him. The blond man with the beard. Nearly shining in the sun, he was walking on the road beyond, facing her. She had seen him before.

He waved.

She waved back.

Owen took in the woman standing in the doorway of the camper. She was a curiosity: thin, with a shock of neon-pink hair and a pallor and a film of acne, she was clad only in a silky, silvery bathrobe and pink cowboy boots. She resembled a Muppet or a Japanese Kawaii or some such oddity. Yet there was a forbidding air about her. It lifted only briefly when two little girls spilled out of the camper and clung to her knees, hugging her tight.

“Hello there!” he called.

“Hi!” the trio said, in near unison. They spoke in flowery, falsetto voices.

Approaching the man, with the twins trailing behind her, Paris Jade stopped on the side of the gravel road. “Guess we’ll be moving shortly.”

“Why’s that?” the man said. He looked vaguely concerned.

“Farmer just kicked us off his field.”

“Ohhh, that’s too bad. I’ve seen you guys here for a while. When I go out for my daily walks.”

Paris Jade nodded sadly. “We don’t have a whole hell of a lot of gas, either. Just enough, I think.”

The little girls took their mother’s hand, one on each side.

The man walked closer to them. With his platinum hair, sandals, and disarming manner, Paris Jade thought he might be an angel.

Has he come to do battle against the dreaded serpents? An avenging angel? Archangel Michael the Protector? She hoped as much.

“Well, I own the acreage up the road. You’re welcome to park there if need be. The sign outside it says ‘Jurgenmeister Flats.’ There’s a grove of trees just when you turn in.”

Paris Jade broke into a wide, Jack o-Lantern grin, with missing and blackened teeth. “Why, thank you!”

“My name is Owen, by the way. I live in the house at the acreage.”

“I’m Paris Jade,” she replied, “and these are my twins, Emerald and Jewel.” The two girls tugged on her arms in a crack-the-whip fashion.

Owen laughed. “Pleased to meet you.”

* * *

Peering through the blinds, Owen saw that they had parked their camper in his grove of trees. Good enough, then.

Continuing to make borscht, he began to dice the beets. His fingers were stained purple as he chopped and sliced. The onions and potatoes were next.

The buns were baking in the oven. Delicious aromas filled the air. He felt relaxed, purposeful.

It was the weekend and he had time to cook; so he did just that. During the week, his job at the Research Centre kept him too busy, so then he relied upon what he had already made. He had cut out drive-thru’s in his bid to be sustainable. His motto had become I’ll grow it, then cook it. It was one of the many life-altering aphorisms that he was abiding by these days.

Owen had inherited the acreage from a great uncle who was an eccentric bachelor, one who believed that he suffered from lycanthropy and thus lived as a near recluse. Owen marveled at it all. Then he quickly moved in.

Elated by the windfall, Owen made an overhaul of his life and value system. It was a sort of thank-you to a universe that had so kindly gifted him. He thought it only right to incorporate the goodwill notions that had been circulating in his mind for some time, that impulse to recycle and downsize, reuse, recover. All of it.

Even further still, he decided to rewild the property, allowing it to return to its natural state. Gone were the lawn and the carefully manicured hedges. Instead, he planted mammoth gardens, one for vegetables and one for herbs. From here on in, he aimed to go vegan, organic.

He planted flowers in a bid to help out the beleaguered bees. And he picked wild berries and crab apples, any edibles that nature provided. He let weeds and wild grasses settle in and take over. It was a return to paradise, so he imagined. What had been lost was being returned in his small part of the cosmos. Creation was renewing itself, and so was he. All was getting better.

It was in stark contrast to his earlier lifestyle. Death metal. Junk food. Online dating that led only to dead ends. Consumerism that culminated in Doctor Who collectibles, signature socks. Yet as sometimes is the case, he returned to a full circle of himself. Primal. Raw. Whole.

In particular, the life overhaul helped to ameliorate his sense of emptiness, that nagging, underlying grief of growing older alone. It took his mind off of it. At least for some of the time.

Nicking his finger while chopping a carrot, he saw that he had drawn blood. A scarlet drop ran down his middle finger. Instinctively, he sucked it.

After the buns were cooling on the counter and the soup was bubbling on the stove, Owen looked about. Made too many buns as ever... Could freeze them...

But then through the kitchen window, a glint of sunlight on the metal of the camper caught the corner of his eye. Why not be neighborly and take them some? He was pleased with the notion.

Rapping on the trailer door, Owen waited with tray in hand. The door flew open. Paris Jade eyed him suspiciously. As ever, the little girls were pasted to her on each side.

“Baked way too many buns today and thought I’d bring you some.” Owen offered. He handed the tray to Paris Jade.

Their eyes widened and Paris Jade excitedly said, “Thanks!”

Instantly, they fell on the buns. Ramming them into their mouths, they chewed with reckless abandon. The little girls grabbed buns off the tray, holding one in each of their hands. Their stubby fingers glistened with butter.

Owen was dismayed by the scene. Oh my God, they are hungry... Poor things... But he just smiled and excused himself away.

He debated taking them over some soup. But he thought that might be too obvious and make them feel uncomfortable. He devised a new tactic.

It being late summer, he had begun harvesting his garden: peas, carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, corn, new potatoes, green onion, chives, rhubarb, zucchini, gourds, string beans, beets, rutabagas. Gathering it all up in one large box, he carried it to their trailer and left it on the front step. Then he knocked loudly and hurried back home.

Fearing that they had no water, he filled a large plastic camping sack with some. Then he walked back to the camper and handed it to Paris Jade, who was outside now happily fondling the plump vegetables.

“What a gorgeous tomato!” she gushed holding one up. “Thank you, Owen!”

Dainty and pale and pink-haired with awful teeth and acne-pocked skin, she almost resembled a gnome moving through the garden of delights. Yet all was picturesque as well. It was a scene that either Bob Ross would have painted, or the kind that mass murderers revel in.

“Want to come in for a coffee? I just made some,” she offered.

“Sure.” Bored and lonely, he was only too eager to oblige.

They went in and settled themselves. The twins crowded about them at the small booth like table. Emerald held a doll that had been colored on with crayon. The eyes had purple rings around them. The lips were green.

Paris Jade cut up a carrot and shelled some peas into two small pink dishes and handed one to each of them.

“Chew slow and carefully now. Chew for a long time before you swallow. Sit and chew.”

They did.

Paris Jade then returned her attentions to the other adult.

Owen smiled. “Good coffee. Hits the spot.”

Smiling that spooky, hockey-player Jack O’Lantern smile, she nodded.

“So, what brings you folks out here if you don’t mind me asking? Are you just campers or what?” Owen queried.

“I’m renting this camper. We are just living here for now.”

“Oh.” He waited for her to divulge more information. But she didn’t. She just sat and sipped her coffee.

“How long do you think you might be parked here?”

Paris Jade shrugged her shoulders. She looked at him coolly.

He looked away. Not wanting to seem like he was forcing the issue, his eyes fell on his mug of steaming coffee.

“I only just moved in here three summers ago. I inherited this place. But I commute to Regina for work. I work at the Research Centre. I’m a biologist.”

She nodded approvingly.

“How about you?” he asked.

“I used to work at The Rib Shack. Then I worked at The Princess Emporium. It was kind of a fun gig where you dress up and pretend to be a princess for the day. You do birthdays or whatever. Paid lousy though.”

“Sounds like more fun than my job.” Owen laughed.

Paris Jade broke out into her creepy grin. And she wondered if the Emporium was where the snakes had first come to her and had been stalking her ever since. Serpents wooed out of their fairy-tale land, pagan time travellers, maybe? She wasn’t sure. But she knew not to divulge this to Owen or anyone for that matter, and especially not to the Welfare lady assigned to her case. She had made that mistake once and was determined never to do it again. Never! It was a secret she would have to take to her grave, she reckoned.

They continued to chat in a meandering fashion about everything from Blue Jays baseball to invasive species of weeds and what not. That is, until the twins began to whine and rub their eyes.

“Better put them to bed,” Owen said. He thanked her for the coffee and returned home.

* * *

To be continued...

Copyright © 2024 by Shauna Checkley

Proceed to Challenge 1050...