Corona

It was fantastic adventure like any we had in our young lifes. Tracking animals, even bears, although Jerome, party-pooper, claimed differently. We had quite a raw in front of the whole gang. He mentioned squirrels and I insisted that those were tracks of much bigger beast. Very soon, our dispute was boring to everybody, including us. Picking flowers for girls or sword fighting with pine branches for the boys were on the cards. When we returned to the camp that evening, we were all very tired, but the fun was just starting. In the middle of compound, huge wooden platform has been erected. Our teacher instructed us all to bring as many branches, pine cones and wood sticks as we can find. Every little child scattered around to please her. Most energetic boys continued with their duels, whilst most of us were running around, caring some sticks. Only few children organized in groups, needless to say, those were girls. One was in charge on packing the wood on outstretched hands of carriers, or carriernesses, if that word is aloud. I am not going to say that their heap was really substantial. However if I am not going to say it, it doesn’t mean that wasn’t the case.

At one moment, I halted with the task, observing the sunset and array of colors, I have never seen before. All shades of red and purple, but also similar colors in rainbow spectrum. One can’t see any of that from my terrace, in the city, as only visible thing are other terraces and many windows of surrounding buildings. Jerome hit me in the back, pointing to others who tried Himalaya’s climbing – catching up the girls. Any fool could see that we are beaten, but we continued our separate efforts. Instead of gaining on them, we were like cavemen and them – Egyptian society. Luckily, this is not story about that; the paper would be moist from my tears.

The teacher gathered us around as red and purple colors, all over the sky, have turned into darker shades with stars coming out.

-“Sit around children, we are about to light the fire”, with our eyes opened like never before in our existence.

To say it was a spectacle should be understatement. There are no words to explain our feelings, looking at huge bon-fire in front of us. Older boys were bringing larger chunks and some children played around holding their hands, whilst my closest friends, and Jerome, sat together still and amazed. Finally, we too have joined people dancing in the large circuit, smiling and screaming. Ordinary, I would consider it quite awful, but I was carried by the moment. Soon enough we were all very tired, taking back our seat at the ground. It was blissful day, full of interesting and exhausting things, but real fun is about to start.

Older boys and some girl started telling spooky stories as this is some kind of ritual for such gatherings. Or it was, ages ago, when people were in contact with the nature, with real themselves, someone would say. All kind of monster, ogres, some raven and even monkey which doesn’t know it is wild and kills someone in some street in that magnificent city of Paris, which we all want to visit, or at least they urge as to do so. Another story, told by that girl together with lot of mimic and staged, of some painting that murders its owner or something like that, I wasn’t really sure. I would not admit it, I was so scared so I hid behind Jerome, as he was doing the same, using one fat boy as cover. His choice was much better, I will acknowledge only that.

Looking at each other, as the flames were smaller and smaller, we were ready to return to our tents, one another interesting novelty of visiting Yellowstone city, or I should correct myself park. Our teacher was on her feet, trying to gather her flock. Bold man with gray beard stopped everybody in their tracks, speaking furiously, so we didn’t comprehend him. The teacher sat back as all eyes were upon him. He took another sip from his bottle and looked at us, especially Jerome and me, with his eyes wide open and piercing gaze further into the darkness.

-“You want to hear, real, proper scary story and not this bull…” Luckily for our teacher and our ears he stopped talking, waving with his free hand around as he was chasing away many mosquitoes or even some bat. The bottle has flown away into the bon fire as he joined left hand to this waving. The teacher wanted to protest, but he started his story with deep voice before she could do anything:

-“It was very long time ago, when I was a lad. Very long time ago, yes”. There he took some pause, looking and searching for something in his left and in his right hand. His face was puzzled. At last, he looked straight at me and realized where he is and what he is doing, or it just felt that way to me.

-“I‘ll give you factual”, he stumbled using this word, “real life horror story with real life beings and not those which only lives in dark places of caves and basements. Yes, it was when I was very old, I mean very young, as young as you are today, although I don’t think I was ever that young.” Some kind of dark smile illuminated his face into grimace. Both I and Jerome, one entity from now on, shivered, not sure where to look. Magically another bottle was in one of his hands.

-“All those creatures, so called monsters, can’t hurt you; they are products of imaginative minds, very imaginative, if you catch my drift. The ones I am talking about are real and so small that you can’t see. They hide and lurk around. You aren’t aware of them, nor are they of you, because they lack awareness and that is why they are so lethal. That particular breed and season when I was a lad as you are today, people were dying like crazy and panic spread much faster and more than the disease this invisible foe brought. Very soon there was any contact between folks, so if anybody wanted to go with some ladies it couldn’t. There were no dates, and subsequently no kissing or any action which follows. We all had to come around as best as we could. I, for myself, acquired pretty, smooth and obedient ladies in form of sexy dolls, which I could seduce and fool around to my pleasing.”

Our teacher steps in the frame, addressing the man up close and personal waving with her hands in all directions. As she was between the fire and us, strange shadows were on faces on mine classmates and probably on me. However we couldn’t hear any word until the man has spoken again, offering his beverage to her:

-“Exactly this behavior wasn’t allowed, intimate socializations in the middle of the night, or day, because of the curfew. Take a sip darling, if that virus should choose to venture back, this thing is the savior.”

-“How old were you during that plague?” – Our teacher declined offering as she was on the mission.

-“I was around 9”, he was sitting, but many girls, and the teacher, screamed in astonishment. On the other hand, many older boys looked pleased, as one, brave and foolish, grabbed the bottle and drunk some. His face turned into painful grimace and he run off to the lake. It was good thing, because many other, foolish and brave lads, wanted to do the same and our tracker would probably decline giving away his precious beverage, unless you are female or sex doll.

-“The worst thing was”, he continued when the commotion settled, “the lack of toilet paper, any paper if you catch my drift”. Obviously very drunk he looked directly at me, so I grabbed Jerome even closer and he also me. The teacher had enough of it protesting to the man, but he suddenly jumped to his feet, yelling to her:

-“Sit down, I am not finish.” We were all stunted and I could tell you that some children were crying, but I won’t tell you it was me or Jerome. Nevertheless, we couldn’t avert our eyes from tall figure, walking and hands waving in front of dying flames.

-“In a record time, the shops, all shops were out of toilet paper and any very soon. It was new currency. If you wanted to buy some pork chops, you could. It would cost you some toilet paper, five rolls first week, twenty following and a lorry full of them close to Easter. Then we had to turn to books in order to survive in dignify manner. Kindle editions didn’t do any good, only real, live books like works of Tolstoy or Victor Hugo. Their value was significant in those solitude days”, he ended his story with his face down in the warm ground already snoring rhinoceros style. In silence we headed for our tents. I was thinking how if such pandemic should venture back, we will be in tricky situation. There are no more proper, live books as that drunk called them. I would like to say because we are all reading e-books now, but the true would be as nobody reads the books anymore. There are so many other interesting and fun things to do – comp games, watching television and movies, following You Tube channels and social media to stay in touch with all your on-line friends and others, your foes. This is particularly important. There is nothing better of disliking someone’s image and post hating comments on their profiles at all networks. One can do it all night and day and never to be bored of it. Also going to nature excursion is so obsolete. It was fun, but once is enough in course of my life. I can’t wait for tomorrow, when we will go back. There are many posts to check and review. It is not good to be off-line for such long periods – day and a half. And what that man meant, when he mentioned isolation isn’t good. It is the way of life for us, I am on my own 24/7 but not alone, there is my phone, my best buddy and I am in touch with everybody with no need to go anywhere.