#complete oblivion

A soulless beast came snuffling around my tent last night. It was well past midnight; a long time asleep; too much sleep. I’d gone to bed early, as I’d no campfire to comfort or keep back the night. Too much sleep indeed. I wasn’t as deeply gone as I should have been…when I heard a gentle tapping against the flap of my tent. Not a tapping really, so much as a sliding sound, as if some blunt paw…

I’m a hundred miles out from Siberia, enjoying a last supper of sorts at the Denny’s restaurant in Barstow. When I arrive at the ghost town two hours from now, I’ll leave the motorcycle with the ruins, and head out into the dark desert for a long two or three hour night hike to the trackless Deep Water Wilderness. After crossing several miles of sloping alluvium, I’ll climb up and onto a dark,…

My book needs a chapter on death; though this theme already pervades every section and page. Is it enough to reflect the atmosphere of indifference with my words? Should I also make explicit effort to relate what I’ve found haunting the wastes, and also the places where my species makes noise and laughter to push away the night? Perhaps it’s enough to let the finality beyond life blow like the…

I first became aware of the soulless beasts when I began hiking alone at night in the desert. I’d encounter these beasts suddenly, as a fox in my path, or a snake along the sand, or a large wandering spider crawling over my shoe. Even the energetic moths which assault my flashlight give out an air of mechanical disinterest, of purpose driven of instinct and lust, hunger, or unthinking…