One paragraph story... August 18 edition

Pulling onto the Ferry in Tsawwassen before seven was not a great start to the trip, but the promise of that White Spot Breakfast erased any doubt this trip was gonna be good. After breakfast, we goofed off on the ferry, yelling in the wind on the bow, pictures of our remarkable hair askew attached. Off to Juan De Fuca. We had a rental van. We had two coolers full with beer, and hot dogs. We had me, Jack, Agnes, and Alec. We had Bebo the dog. And we had high school graduation a forgotten memory. And the book. The rain began to pick up. We knew the trail was generally a wet one, so this didn't come as a surprise, but when we caught glimpses of the waves through the trees we were struck dumb at the ferocity of nature. we found out were for surfers. Humping our gear to the beach we found we had to hike about a kilometer east along the rocks to find a spot that would fit both tents as well as be high enough above the water line. Not that that would matter tomorrow. Agnes jumped in one of the tents to read, while the rest of us drank, and tried to make a fire. Mostly drank. Ha ha. Bebo chased sticks, and then we fed him some of the hotdogs. As the light dipped we sang songs, and counted the surfers blend into the night until the only thing we could see was the distant glow of the other campers’ fire light. Just before midnight the rain paused, and then Agnes came out in there robe. We put ours on and circled her. She welcomed us, and we began the chant. Repeating it. After the sleeping pills affected Bebo Alec carried him to the sea. Our voices calling out to Dagon. The waves crashing against the shore covering our song. I cut Bebo’s throat and we drew shapes on our bodies in the blood. Agnes removed her robed and as the book told us, we gave ourselves to her. In the blood we writhed, and kissed, and called out, “Ia! Ia! R’lyeh - Cthulhu ftagn! Ia! Ia! Ia! Mglui naflftagn Dagon e Y’ha-nthlei!” And when the ceremony was over we bathed in the cold of the surf and retired to our beds. Soon Dagon would be reborn and his Kingdom would rise form the ocean and the doors would open to us who have cause him new life. In the morning we were awoken by cries of voices, and screams. We moved out of our tents to see a swarm of people around Bebo, but no Dagon. No new world. No doors. We were driven back to Victoria, but couldn’t look each other in the eyes. We are here awaiting bail. I hope, Mom, you can forgive me.

James C.