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| JJoe was starting to look a little worried. "Hey, don't do that..." But I had already waded out into those black waters. It was like...swimming in satin. So....restful, out there with the night and the stars. So peaceful. All those storied about Pyramid were just a pile of.... My hand brushed rock. I was a great swimmer...you might have even seen my pic in the paper once in a while. So it didn't take me any time to get there, really. Fifty dollars was going to look pretty good coming out of old Joe's pocket. Then my hand brushed something else, like sandy skin. It was weird to realize someone was there ahead of me, helping me out of the water, pulling me out. Especially when that someone was me, man. Except I didn't look so good. I looked downright nasty, in fact, like I'd been in the water a really long time. Putrid, swollen skin, covered what was left of the face I was staring at. One shredded eye hung on its pink stalk, grazing it's -- my exposed cheekbone. My other self dropped open its blackened mouth to grin at me, and tiny, pale worms fell into the sand, squirming weakly between my toes. I was going to look like this in about a month. After they'd fished me out of the lake. Or maybe if one of Pyramid's upending currents turned me up faster. If they ever found me, that was. Lots of things get lost at Pyramid, you know? I could hear Joe somewhere in the night, calling me a jerk for swimming out there. He was starting to sound really scared. I could hear the Grateful Dead ripping out across the water. And those were just about the last things I ever heard. On that side of the pyramid, that is. Staying at the lake's not so bad. It's always Indian summer here. And if you ever rustle up the time, I could tell you all kinds of stories about Pyramid. I know the best ones. Come back any time, man. I got all the time in the world.....all the time. ---Kathleen Youmans, copyright 2001 |
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