Lupin Moon

By Brian Selfridge

The waters of deep wooded Altoona, Pennsylvania, roar and race as my recognition returns to me. A small slit of overshadowed light through my helmet’s visor, my head pounding harder than a drummer boy in a school band. My body, from my waist up to my neck, tingles with the sensation of racing waters as my head boils as if it were an egg. The water fast and white with patches of red nearly engulfs me as I remove my dented yellow and green helmet. The air smells of sweet sassafras, gently masked with burning oil and gasoline. This serene spot full of swimming brook trout shadowed by enormous sassafras. My yellow Yamaha Raptor 700R lies upside down in a pile of grassy rock smoking and smoldering. Hearing that can listen to whitetail deer across acres of land and yet this leaf pile didn’t tell me that a log secretly lived underneath it. This log sends me flying as if I
was a hawk attacking a squirrel, landing with a popping thud that can be heard all over.

I removed my dented yellow and green helmet and move the red soaked shoulder length black hair from my face as my left arms drags my semi-lifeless body towards a white pine being entangled with goldenrod. I cling tightly to the cinnamon scent of my grandmother’s house over ten miles away, to keep my last shred human. Purples and dark blues envelope the sky as the full moon’s light slips through the nearby mountain range and endless seas of trees; I can no longer tell the difference between my blood-stained skin and the skin given to me by my Native ancestors. Under this white pine
tree, completely devastated, my waist shoots pains of worry and fear to my mind. “Am I ever going to be found?” I say out loud, hoping someone can hear me. “What would my grandfather, the chief, say?” The moon shines at its peak as it seems to be aiming towards this Oasis.  My brown eyes catch this beautiful sliver-shining sphere through the thick, dark purple clouds before the neighboring mountain ranges do.

The full moon’s light reconnects my mind and soul and gives me a new meaning of survival, as this beautiful area is re-brightened, oddly more beautiful than it did an hour ago. In a trance-like state, I drag myself out from under the tree and lay in the patch of goldenrod for the moon’s mercy. I was told to never look at the full moon, but I can’t resist. The big beautiful pearl sphere looks so peaceful and serine. A burning sensation goes through my lifeless legs as my body starts to convulse.  My body flops, like a freshly caught brook trout. Reflections of my brown eyes now transform to golden-yellow spheres. A snout takes control of my dark brown skin as the black fur runs into my matching black hair. On all fours, with a huge shaggy black tail, I run as fast as the wind. I quickly scale a nearby mountain and give the moon a thankful howl.