Shenandoah Starlight
Story by Ash; top illustration by Game Master Virtuoso
October 30th, 1981: my 18th birthday. For the last three birthdays I’ve had with my foster dad, Jack, I’ve been given a shot of whatever the highest-proof liquor in the house was along with encouraging words like, “Maybe you’ll grow some balls this year,” as my gift.
This year’s different, and I knew in my gut it was bound to be a shit day. Jack woke me up, acknowledged the day, and then told me we were headed to my favorite place, Shenandoah National Park. First, it’s something I’d genuinely care for, and second, this takes actual effort on his part. Something was wrong.
The hike itself wasn’t that bad, utterly gorgeous with a comfortable temperature all day. The sketch part was when we went off trail, Jack saying, “Real men go off the beaten path and make the world theirs. Also applies to women, making them ours I mean.”
“Yes, Jack, whatever you say,” I repeated my now four-year-old mantra.
“You’re using that girly-ass mouth to bitch like a woman again,” he spat back.
The rest of the hike was me quietly listening to Jack explain how the way I look is wrong, the way I speak is wrong, and the way I think is wrong. That and how grateful I should be for him trying to fix me. The constant barbs from him were a very sharp contrast to the lovely orange waves across the tree line and faded blue sky.
We found ourselves at a vantage point that included a few pools of water near the cliff face and a good amount of shade. Once we sat down to take in the view, Jack took a small cardboard box out of his pack. He popped it open to reveal actual gifts: a pocket knife, a steel lighter, and a canteen.
Then Jack presented a cigar to me, “Go ahead and light up, then take a big swig of that whiskey once you got a good puff in. They go right together.”
I was kind of shocked, I hadn’t had a gift from anyone but lovers since I was 10. So I said something I meant for the first time to Jack, “Thank you.”, and I did exactly what he said.
Over the next half hour, we passed the cigar around and drank from each of our canteens, while Jack told war stories from Vietnam. He also checked his watch constantly, waiting for something.
I finally asked, “What’s the time for?”, the words left my mouth in what barely amounts to English.
“That.”
After Jack delivered his one-word response, he began packing up all our camping equipment except the gifts he gave me. All the while I couldn’t move a muscle, he had drugged my drink.
Once he finished packing up he said one last thing to me, “Your shit that’s worth keeping is at the rest area, and five hundred bucks. You’re not allowed back in my house till you make a man out of yourself. Join the Marines or Army, probably your best shot at fixing your pixie-ass.”
My consciousness blinked away in a moment, and I woke up in a different place swaddled inside a sleeping bag. The night had already passed through, and I had no idea where I was within the park. Having no supplies, my first day was nothing but gathering tools, finding water, and catching food. With the amount of lumber around it wasn’t hard to get a branch and jury-rig a primitive bow, and I managed to find a river I recognized near the end of the day where I fished using my bow. I camped relatively close to the water, and once the day had finally ended I began to contemplate the night before’s events.
All of my instincts lead me to fantasize about how I could’ve stopped this from happening, and then how I could find Jack and beat him to death with his own prosthetic leg. For a moment, I was set on it. Then I had the thought: he would do that, or even want me to do it. So I promised myself I wouldn’t go back to his place and rip it apart, and instead, I’d forget about him because that would piss him off more.
The morning after I ranted myself to sleep, I set to making my way out of the park. If I followed the stream for long enough I’d recognize the path again, and be able to make my own way out. I was constantly rerunning arguments through my head, and in the quieter moments contemplating just how alone I was here. No one could care for me here, nor could they harm me. It isn’t all bad.
Then as I walked overtop a hill with my eyes in my cloudy thoughts, I stumbled right upon a bear. I immediately froze and took in my surroundings again, first spotting the snarling bear, and then her cubs hiding behind her. Just as I digested the situation, the mother bear took her first stride, and I was forced to dive into the rushing water, hoping the terrain wouldn’t kill me. The ride was bumpy, and all I could do was cry out obscenities as I clawed towards the bank in hopes I could grab something. Then it hit me, whatever it was. I was bashed unconscious by something, whether it was a branch or rock I’m not sure.
“That’s warped all to hell, hon… am I rolling for two or three?”, Rebecca shifted away from my fucked up vacation story.
Before I could even respond, Vik did for me, “Three, and roll in the mesc too.”
Rebecca paused, “Aye Rosey, you down for that? Probably a lot more intense than any smoke you’ve had.”
I had smoked cigarettes before, but not anything else, but I dove in anyway, “I’m the downest.”
We passed the freshly rolled blunt around, and as the THC hit my system it felt like a warm hug, unlike that icy feeling from nicotine. Around half an hour after, we were watching the clouds in the early evening turn into floating icebergs in an ocean of neon orange blood.
There were tears in my eyes as I watched the sun cling to its last moments and spray out the deepest reds and pinks I’d ever seen into that oceanic atmosphere as it died. Then watching the world of the day end as the night was reborn, I felt like I had just been born myself.
The mother moon watched over us as the moths, dragonflies, and other small creatures of the night came out to play. Raccoons laughed, talking about the state of affairs in the park; owls heralded the news of the night starting; and great beasts roared to bring the nighttime forest back into a silence.
Just as the lightning bugs gathered ‘round camp, a mist moved in as well. Each little firefly was like one small lighthouse within an ever-wide, black sea. Then I saw closer, the way the warm orange light mixes with the pale blue light of the moon to craft a bajillion rainbows in each droplet of water in the air.
When I came to, there was a huge Russian man with long, black hair and a thick, bushy beard performing chest compressions on me.
As my ribs cracked under this man’s arms I vomited up water and a few words, “Ow, fuck! Stop it goddamnit!”
He relented and began laughing, “Fuck, Becca, you sure we caught a princess? They’re not supposed to sound like that, right?”
I was lying by the river, looking around to find “Becca”, and I eventually found the woman who looked like some kind of Black hippie queen with a wild plume of blonde hair, all surrounded by a cloud of smoke.
As Becca finished exhaling a large puff of smoke she spoke, “Vik, the kid’s barely alive and you’re cracking jokes?”
“Shit, you’re right. Well, ah, that’s Rebecca, and I’m Viktor. How’d you end up in the water, and get beat to hell too?”
I shared the experience, minus all the stuff that makes me insecure in front of strangers. While I was telling the story Vik started to grill up some sausages and burgers, and by the time I was done I was shoveling food in my face.
When I looked to the stars, I saw them dancing, forming shapes to act out stories. I watched as the starbeasts went to war with each other, bleeding across the cosmos and painting the night sky with splashes of color. It went on for years, watching them clash over little slights like a passing brush or a silly prank. The worst part was watching the most peaceful or isolated creatures being drawn into their fights that were often pointless and costed them lives. When they eventually had their greatest fight, I slipped away into unconsciousness as each and every star faded away.
When I woke the next day it was quiet, almost unsettlingly so. I crawled out of the tent with my newfound friends still sleeping. I stretched as I walked towards the stream, and then I saw it. There was a beautiful… person staring at me in the water. I didn’t recognize them at first until I realized the scrapes, hair, and clothes all matched my own. It was so strange to see my wide hips as appealing, and my muscles not mismatched with my feminine face. I genuinely liked what I saw in my reflection for the first time.