F. P. Dorchak

Speculative Fiction (New Weird) Author

Fantasy

MileHiCon48

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MileHiCon48, October 28 - 30, 2016
MileHiCon48, October 28 – 30, 2016

My final “Author Event” for 2016 was MileHiCon48, in Denver. It was the fifth Author Event I’d been to. I’d done two library events, my first Comic Con, an RMFW Con, and MileHiCon. Prior to this year, the most promotion I’d ever done was two events. This event marked my third time at this Con, and it was probably the most fun I’ve had so far [at the Con]! Every year seems to get better and better!

I’d arrived just before 1:30 at the Hyatt Regency, at the Denver Tech Center (DTC), on Denver’s south end (which is continually advancing toward Castle Rock) and made my way to the Hyatt Regency’s restaurant, Root 25. As some of you may have seen, I detailed my culinary experience on FB. I had a wonderful server, named Leyla, who I came to calling “My Enabler.” She’d highly touted the brick chicken (forget it’s official menu name) with a molasses sauce, which I subsequently inhaled and which Leyla had joked “It never had a chance.” She then went on to “enable me” into…ummm…cheesecake. Yeah. Similarly dispatched.

Hence: “My Enabler.”

Leyla (she gave me permission to post this).
Leyla (she gave me permission to post this).

We ran into each other several times over the weekend. Her and two others (Angela and Traci) on the Root 25 staff were extremely attentive, friendly—at times even humorous—and efficient in the performance of their duties, and I just want to give them some well-deserved shout-outs. Everyone there was “on their game,” though the three I mentioned were who I personally dealt with each day. The Con always gets the attention, but my dealings with the Hyatt staff were also most deserving of shout-outs (and they sported cool hats, too)!

Also while having my first meal at the Hyatt, I’d struck up a conversation with another eating alongside me, a guy who’s a Gamer. His name is Ross Watson, and he’s the Managing Director of Evil Beagle Games. Anyway, Ross mentioned that he remembered me and I said I thought I’d also recognized him…but he also said he remembered me because last year I’d been walking around the Con with a mannequin head!

Ha! How cool! Much like my pseudo-stalker Sheri, from RMFW this past September, I’d again been “recognized in the wild” for something I’d done…um, in a good way! Later this past weekend, another had also mentioned the same thing to me, so Becka had really made a good impression on MileHiCon47!

This year’s panels were more lighthearted for me. I was on more fun stuff, and not having dystopian issues and serious shit all up in my grill, like last year. In fact, I’d withdrawn from one panel this year about “who’s running everything,” as in the ultimate conspiracy theory. I just don’t want to “go there” in my life anymore. I researched it for two novels, wrote the books, now I’m done with it.

This year, I was on three, “lighter issue” panels:

  • A Gentle Critique of Critique Groups
  • The Afterlife: Good, Bad, Cliché
  • Guilty Pleasures: Best Bad Stuff I Like
My notes for "The Afterlife" panel, MileHiCon48.
My notes for “The Afterlife” panel, MileHiCon48.

Though the “Guilty Pleasures” panel was fun and hilarious, “The Afterlife” panel was my favorite panel. I was on it with Connie Willis, Warren Hammond, and Robin Owens. Another was supposed to have joined us, but never showed. I loved this panel! It’s what I deal with in all my fiction. We talked about whether or to we believed in an afterlife and what we thought one might be like. Talked of ghosts and cemeteries and books and movies that had some of the best of the portrayal of the topic. One of the funnier things talked about was from Connie Willis who said that she got the following idea from another…that as she (Connie) approaches the afterlife she is going to start making a list of all the stuff she won’t miss! That sent the room into laughter. What a cool idea, huh? Instead of pining away for what you will miss when you die, why not point out some of the stuff—people and crap—that you absolutely will not miss! “I’ll never have to deal with that guy again!” kinda thing! What a cool idea!

I really loved that this panel was programmed! In fact as the room filled up, I was actually stunned at the interest! As I voiced this to the audience, a lady in the front row shouted out “We all want answers!” I thought this was great to include with all the hard-science panels, because last year I was on the “Closer & Further Than You Think” panel, and an actual scientist, when approaching the topic of souls and the afterlife said he wouldn’t touch that [topic] with a ten-foot pole! Really, I thought? That is precisely what we need to be doing—and more of it! Technology is not everything! Don’t allow it to outpace our souls! Our Humanity! Our consciences! Anyway, as to the matter of the seriously packed room, I was later told that maybe it was so packed because Connie Willis was on the panel. She is a huge draw and at least one other panel I attended that she was on was also packed…but not as much as this one (see the short stories, below).

I did two book signings, a “single-table” one with C. R. Asay, whom I first met here at last year’s MileHiCon, and a mass autographing with the rest of the authors. At this conference I sold five books. Definitely up from one last year!

"The Reading Game," MileHiCon48. Note Kevin Ikenberry in the center of the three on the left.
“The Reading Game,” MileHiCon48. Note Kevin Ikenberry in the center of the three on the left.

Of the sessions I attended as an audience member, I really loved two of them:  “The Reading Game” and “Short Stories: Lifeblood & Experimental Laboratory of the Genre World.” The Reading Game is like the dating game but for books and readers, and it’s a really fun event! Three authors are on one side of a barrier, while a reader is selected from the audience and is on the other side. We learn what the reader is interested in, the host selects from the group of authors the best fits to what the reader is interested in. The reader closes their eyes as the three authors take seats on the other side of the barrier. The reader then opens their eyes and starts asking three questions of each author. Based on their answer, the reader selects an author, and they get a free autographed novel! How cool is that? I was one of the authors last year, during its debut appearance, and I had been selected by a reader, with my supernatural murder mystery, The Uninvited. It was so much fun! Anyway, this year I got to watch others I know get the same treatment. It’s such a cool event!

The Short Story Panel, MileHiCon48.
The Short Story Panel, MileHiCon48.

The other session I really liked was the short story panel. The past year I’d gotten back into my own short stories. I’ve been going back over all the stuff I’d written over the years and am posting the better of them (which is not saying much in some cases, perhaps!) for free on this site. I’ve kept them as close as possible to their original form, with little editing. I wanted them…warts and all…as I’d last left them. Why? Not sure. It sounded like a great idea one morning at 3 a.m. last year to revisit my younger mindset and efforts…then—as I’m doing now—go over those and pull the best of those and edit the heck out of them, and release them in print and e-books formats, which I’ll be doing for 2017. Anyway, since I am currently in the short story mode, I really wanted to attend this and hear the haps on it all. It was not disappointing! It was a packed room that went “sauna” real fast, because of the overtaxed ventilation system. But we all stuck it out. It was enlightening, engaging, even humorous! One thing that always gets me is how many seem to look at short stories as test beds for novels, and I was so glad to hear Connie Willis say, yeaaaah—no. You’re wrong. Sure, they can be all that and more, but they are their own legitimate form. This I heartily agree with! Carrie Vaughn also said another thing of interest, in that there’s also been some cries of the death of short stories, but what they’re all seeing now is an actual resurgence. Where are all these declarations coming from?! They must make for good copy, but (to me anyway) always appear incredibly trite. The remaining panel members were Jennifer Campbell-Hicks, Sam Knight, and Ed Bryant, who was also the moderator.

Avistrum Battle Chess Match, MileHiCon48.
Avistrum Battle Chess Match, MileHiCon48.

On Sunday, I’d been talking with Sue Duff, and she’d been giving me all kinds of cool information about updating my pricing, etc., while behind me was going on all this noise and commotion. I finally told her I had to check out what was going on, and it was the Avistrum Battle Chess Match. It was pretty neat, so I watched some of it. I am not an Avistrum fan, but it was fun to watch!

There is so much more to mention, both people and events, but I don’t want to name names and risk missing anyone. It was so nice to meet you all! I met many from social media that I had never physically met! Met friends I used to see once or twice a year, but his year, having done five events, met them every couple of months, and that was really cool! Thank you all for making MileHiCon48 what it is and for being who you are! For making the world a better place with your energy and efforts! It really is amazing at how much writing and energy is put toward it all that is out there! The same can be applied to most anything, but wow, it’s truly staggering when you stop and think about it. Think about how much time and effort you place into you effort-of-choice and multiply that by the world population. It’s a crapload of effort and energy being pumped out into life! So, where does all that energy come from and where does it go, since it cannot be created or destroyed?

Yeah, just think about that….

Laura K. Deal, on the "What Killed It For You?" MileHiCon48 Panel.
Laura K. Deal, on the “What Killed It For You?” MileHiCon48 Panel.

And I had to post this shot of my friend, Laura Deal! Doesn’t she look great? This was on the panel, “What Killed It For You?” About what made you throw a book across a room. That was a pretty lively discussion!

Well, there’s one more thing I have to mention, and I hope I don’t embarrass the individual, but it really pleasantly surprised me! At the end of the en masse book signing on Saturday, Ed Bryant came over and chatted a bit with me. I had met Ed, geez, 20-25 years ago? Man, has it really been that long? I’m really not sure anymore, but he and John Stith used to run a critique group at a local university here, and I had gotten into it. I think we actually first met through a Pikes Peak Writers Conference that led to me finding out about the critique group. Anyway, I eventually left the group, the group is no longer active, and Ed and I had quite infrequently run into each other over the years, physically and electronically. Well, since attending these MileHiCons, we’ve renewed our contact. Ed is a great guy, dry and witty. Unassuming. Talented. Articulate. A great writer. He’s one of those guys who says stuff, and you sometimes have to pause and buffer what he’d just said, realizing he’d just said something incredibly insightful or humorous! Well, at least I do, don’t know about the rest of his more familiar friends. Anyway, I mention all this not to drop names and all, but because the legendary and esteemed Edward Bryant Jr. asked me for my autograph!

Wow.

Floored me. I was quite taken aback.

I hope I’m not making that up. Was it a dream?

Had some big, famous dude actually asked for my autograph?

MileHiCon48 Bands.
MileHiCon48 Bands.

I hope it wasn’t some hypnogogic hallucination brought on by all the excitement and exhaustion and inhalation of body-sweat bouquet (mine and others)! Thank you, Ed, for your most kind gesture! It’s weird how “little things” like that from your fellow writers can affect you! It is always a pleasure seeing and catching up with you! And thank you so much for “keeping it real,” which is ironic given what it is you do for a living….

MileHiCon48?

Freaking ausgezeichnet.

Related Article

Beyond The Trope Interview – Denver Comic Con 2016

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A Beyond The Trope Podcast. (Image by By Badseed [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
A Beyond The Trope Podcast. (Image by By Badseed [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
When I attended Denver Comic Con 2016, I was thrice interviewed. The first posted interview was with Reel Nerds, and this one is with Beyond The Trope. In this interview I am grouped with C. R. Richards and Sue Duff. I’m the middle, or second interview.

Beyond The Trope Interview.

It runs 40:17.

Or…you can listen to just my interview below. It runs 11:35.

Early in my interview I say that I don’t write about “monsters”…which is sorta true: in my novels I don’t write about fantastical monsters…though I do write about the human kind. However…in my short stories, I have written about them! Sooo, sorry about the lie. It was Denver Comic Con. It was crazy.

Beyond the Trope on iTunes!

I have one more DCC 2016 interview, with Solikeyouknow.com (SLYKRadio). They will contact me when that podcast is available.

Thanks, Beyond The Trope! Had a blast!

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Reel Nerds Podcast Interview – Denver Comic Con 2016

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A Reel Nerds Podcast. (Image by By Fourandsixty [Own work] [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
A Reel Nerds Podcast. (Image by By Fourandsixty [Own work] [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons)
When I attended Denver Comic Con 2016, I was thrice interviewed. This is the first of them:

Reel Nerds Interview.

It runs 11:58.

Thanks, Reel Nerds, for a fun time!

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Denver Comic Con 2016

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Denver Comic Con, June 17-19, 2016
Denver Comic Con, June 17-19, 2016
This past weekend I attended my first ever Denver Comic Con (DCC), and I did so as a panelist on two panels. I had a blast!

Parking

DCC was held in the Denver Convention Center, in downtown Denver. The parking and traffic is a little crazy, and if you want to park in the Convention Center (CC) itself, you had to get there no later than 9 a.m. (doors opened at 10). And using GPS, the CC says to use the 1104 Champa address, but my GPS took me through some weird “dogleg” through the side streets where I ended up in the adjacent Denver Performing Arts parking garage. No. Don’t do that. Sure, you can park there, it’s a short walk, but, if you’re lugging books and gear, you don’t really wanna do that—just get on Speer Blvd (it doesn’t matter which direction)–just get on Speer and stay on Speer. You’ll see all the appropriate CC signs once you get there, and look for the huge “P” for “Parking” on the CC building. There is also a sign that tells you if the parking garage is still open for parking.

Denver Comic Con

I did a book signing on Saturday, my first day at DCC. It was at 11 a.m. MT. I must have handed out 200 bookmarks. “Hey, howyadoin?” or “Too late—you made eye contact—here’s a bookmark!” and “Hey—get back here, I have something for ya!” I talked to a couple brave souls, met some people I know, didn’t know, and wondered if they were human at all….

My table was right across from an Avatar booth. A makeup woman was applying the signature blue face paint to a guy. It must have taken better than an hour for her to apply it all, but in the end, the guy’s face looked just like one of the Na’vi clan leaders from Pandora. I wasn’t able to get a picture of the end result.

After my hour—it was actually two. I was able to get in before the public was let in to set up, so was really there from 10 – noon. Talked with some fellow book signers. After my stint, I was able to wander the rest of the day on my own, exploring all that was DCC 2016, and it was simply amazing! There were three levels to the place: the topmost level where I was, was the main show room: all the goodies were there…absolutely anything you wanted to buy was on sale…the floor below that were where the sessions were held…and the level below that was where all the Evil Dead, Warrior Chicks, and Science Fiction monsters hung out. Okay, not really (I don’t really know…), but I think that was the ballroom area. I didn’t go there, but saw signs to the effect. One other thing that really stood out was that while being immersed in the sea of flesh (120,000 people were said to have been in attendance—don’t know if that included the presenters), was the sweat.

Yes, you could actually smell the sweat on people.

It was that packed, that close-quartered. That intimate. And it was also 900 degrees outside, so with a small town’s population packed inside one building, you know the HVAC system was working overtime. But, all things considered, I think it was amazing it was as “cool” as it was and the HVAC system remained up and running. Kudos the the facilities staff!

My friend, Jan C. J. Jones, was working the Con and twice she managed to just “find me”; it was like some weird Jedi “locator” power she possessed (or those damned implants….). Twice I’d gone looking for her in her assigned area, and twice I came up empty. Yet, on two consecutive days I’d just be hanging out, talking, and twice she came right up to me.

It was like she just materialized out of thin air (pardon the pun—Denver’s altitude).

DCC Panels

On Sunday, I was no two panels: at 12:15 MT I was on the Dealing With Discouragement in Writing and Publishing, and at 2:15 MT I was on Why We Write Short Stories. I love doing panels, interacting with fellow writers and artists and anyone else in the biz. Love interacting with the audience. Talking about writing! Both were pretty well attended, I thought, given the focus of the Con was not so much books…but it was cool that books were made a part of a Comic Con.

I attended a few other sessions that some of my writer friends were on, such as Monsters: Not Just For Horror Anymore, Self-Publishing: Is It For You?, Can’t We Get Along?, Cultural Exchange vs Appropriation in Writing, and Diversity in SciFi and Fantasy Literature. I tooled around some more…took in an act where a guy promoting his web comic (I believe it was) did a balancing act atop stacked chairs. That was neat and pretty funny. It’s one thing to watch it on TV…another to stand 10 feet from the person actually doing it! There really are no nets…but there was a gym-mat-like padded floor. It would have reduced bruising, but that’s about all, had he really fallen.

Kevin Ikenberry

I first met Kevin Ikenberry at a Denver MileHiCon. Kevin is retired Army (I won’t hold that against him) and has written two military SF novels and some short fiction. He’s now an “active duty author,” and boy is he creating his own “shock and awe”! The man is apparently unstoppable! As of DCC his Amazon.com numbers were staggering, and he sold out his DCC stock. That’s the way to do it, Kevin! I keep running into him at every author/literary event I go to, and we usually end up seated/standing/tripping over each other. He has an infectious smile and an outgoing manner. I bought his Sleeper Protocol and am currently reading it. Of course he jabbed the Air Force in his autographing of it…but he does have to remember that to the Air Force…all the other services are beneath it (“Aim higher,” yourself, buddy!)….

Aaron Michael Ritchey

And then there is the amazing Aaron Michael Ritchey.

AMR Money Talks. (© F. P. Dorchak, Denver Comic Con, June 19, 2016)
AMR Money Talks. (© F. P. Dorchak, Denver Comic Con, June 19, 2016)
This photo says it all. I really have to do something with it…and I think I know exactly what. Aaron (in a word) is a trip. He gives caffeine a run for its money. Gives “personality” a whole new definition. And talk about ubiquitous. Name one place Aaron Michael Ritchey isn’t. You can’t. It’s impossible.  He warps time. He’s standing behind you right now. But when you turn around—he’s gone. Off to be somewhere else—or is he (have you checked the kitchen)?

If you ever get a chance to meet either of these two guys, go do it. Buy their work.

DCC Podcasts

I really hope I didn’t embarrass myself on any of them! I did three podcasts while at DCC, but it was so loud and crazy, so many incredible COSPLAY walking the Con…so much exposed skin of both men and women…so many really neat and ingenious costumes of both men and women—well, in one of my interviews a sword-wielding barbarian chick with a nice smile stood not four feet in front of me. She was quite…fit. And I was not looking at her…but a couple times while I was not looking at her I might have uttered something like “tomato juice” when asked about my favorite books, or “yes” when asked about what got me started at writing. So, forgive anything stupid that may have come out of my mouth during these interviews. It was loud. It was crazy. It was DCC.

Finitione…

One thing really warmed my heart in particular: a COSPLAY woman had walked by up ahead of me and had dropped her iPhone (or similar). I went to go fetch it and flag her down, when another guy between me and Ms. COSPLAY also saw it. He picked it up and gave it to the girl. I was so impressed! He could have walked away with it, cause the girl had no idea she’d dropped it, and had kept walking. I didn’t think of this until Monday, but I should have gone up to the guy and applauded him for his actions! Whoever you are, way to go, dude!

Denver Comic Con was utterly incredible. Amazing. Expansive. Diverse. Freaking FUN. People were there to have fun…and it felt so good to see everyone behaving and having fun. I’d heard larger (Really? Larger?) Comic Cons weren’t so, well, “nice”…but DCC was. It really was family friendly and I saw a lot of family there. People were well-behaved. I was so honored to have been asked by Eneasz Brodski, who handles the literary portion of Comic Con. I can’t thank you enough, Eneasz—and Angie Hodapp, who introduced us! Hope to attend next year!

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Snow Paper

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The Woods Hold Secrets. (Image by By Estormiz, own work [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons)
The Woods Hold Secrets. (Image by By Estormiz, own work [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons)
Family tragedies, knives, deserted, wintry forests, wolves, and, well, the stuff of fantasy.

This is yet another story I don’t  remember writing, and was written in the early years (1989), but as I stumbled upon it, it just captured my fancy as such an odd little story. A cool one, so I moved it up in the line-up…especially since we just had a blizzard dumped on us (March 23rd), two days later, another eight inches. And this week? A couple more days of fast moving snow squalls. It’s still snowing outside my window….

This story has never been published.

 

Snow Paper

© F. P. Dorchak, 1989

“No! Don’t do it! Please, don’t—”

The shrill screams pierced through the frigid, moonlit night, originating behind the closed doors of a mountain cabin. Behind tattered, backlit curtains forms moved…jerked…flickering images engaged in a heated argument. Yelling. Pleading. Crying.

Outside, smoke from the chimney mixed with blowing snow.

“Daddy no!”

A gunshot.

Another.

Out from the door dove a dark form.

The shadow was far from maturity…short in height and small in frame…and it plunged directly into the several-foot-deep accumulation of snow. Behind the small-framed shadow—her—the door was left open.

“No! No-no-no-no-no!”

Shelain collapsed face-first into the snow.

“Mommy! Why? Daddy—why?”

But her cries only fell upon the hushed ears of a snow-packed forest.

Blood on her clothes.

Shelain lie face down in the snow, arms covering her head, and sobbed….

She looked up. Into the woods before her.

She didn’t need moonlight to see. She knew what was out there. Snow. And trees. Lots of both and little respite from either.

Shelain had grown up in this forest. She had always been a fast learner. In better times her parents had remarked at how good she’d been in finding her way back home while out hunting. That she could survive in the snow if she had to (she’d built her first igloo at the age of five), and that making fires and snaring food was now quite commonplace to her. Her parents knew she could survive, and so did Shelain. She was a tough little girl, and now she would be put through her right of passage.

Shelain didn’t understood what had happened between her father and mother, only that it had happened…and that was all that mattered just now. But she also knew she couldn’t live here anymore. This had been a home, now it was a tomb—and the living didn’t live in tombs.

She did not want to go back in there.

The woods were her only option. Yes, she would go there. She would go to the woods and find a new place. But before that was to happen, she needed things. And that meant…

Going back inside.

And she did not want to do that.

As soon as she got back up to her feet, she felt her head pound, like the outsides had moved too fast for the insides, and her insides were ready to explode…her heart….

Shelain stood. Wiped snow off herself, and turned.

Entered the cabin.

On the floor were—

She moved around them.

She was unable to take her eyes off what now lay on the floor.

But her father’s woods training and her mother’s practicality took over and she immediately set upon collecting what she needed. She grabbed food and clothes. Water wouldn’t be too much of a problem this time of the year, but she took a flask or two anyway. Putting on as many pieces of outer wear as she deemed practical and useful, she slung the pack over her back and

The floor still mocked her. She couldn’t ignore them.

Stooping, Shelain went to her father…unable to look directly at him. She searched around him before she found what she was looking for. Removing it, she put it into her jacket.

His hunting knife. Now it was hers.

Shelain went to her mother.

She was also unable to look directly at her. She went to her hand. Shelain removed the wedding band. Like gutting a trout or cleaning a rabbit, her emotions suddenly seemed turned off.

That was enough.

Pocketing the band she strode out the door, not bothering to close it.

She felt the crunch of the snow beneath her feet, and headed around to the side of the cabin, adjusting her pack. She pulled her snowshoes out from their snowy groves alongside the building and put them on. She’d gotten these two birthdays ago. She was very adept in them, even able to run in them, dodging in and around trees….

“It’s going to be a cold winter,” she said to no one. She stood back up and looked off into the moonlit night.

Off she trekked, into the dark tree line of the forest.

 

Shelain felt as if she was living one of those fairy tales her parents had so often read to her as a child.

But she was a child no longer.

As prepared as she was, she had forgotten two very important things. One was that she might not be as energetic about things after the shock and the jolt had worn off. Two, she had completely forgotten that she had not yet eaten that night.

She figured she’d been walking for several hours (this she did by the movement of the stars), and though she was young and strong, she needed food and rest, and now was as good a time as any to stop. Unloading her pack, she collapsed against a giant snow-covered fir, careful as to not knock any of the snow capping off. She might end up needing the tree as shelter and would need the snow for insulation.

Fishing through her pack’s contents, she removed a small salted slab of venison, immediately digging into it.

She watched the stars.

Then heard the noise.

Noises.

Only moving her eyes, she surveyed the dark…through the trees and back from the direction she’d come.

She’d been followed.

How stupid of her! She knew better!

The moon lit her trail, but that wasn’t all it had lit up. It also lit up a second trail which had veered off on its own into the woods mere paces away. It didn’t take an expert to know that she was being followed.

Wolves.

Shelain slowly placed the remainder of her venison on the snow.

She sat. Listened.

There came the low, throaty rumblings again….it was all around her.

She positioned her pack firmly in front of her; held it with both hands.

All her training had not prepared her for this. She was alone now, no father to get her out of this one. No mother.

Solo.

The rustling came closer, the growls no longer muted.

Shelain saw the wolves emerge from the darkness. She could actually see their eyes.

Four of them.

Slowly coming to a stand, Shelain kicked the chunk of venison toward the advancing pack. That tiny morsel wasn’t going to satisfy anything. She stayed close to the tree. Shelain felt her mind beginning to go limp…lose its focus.

Fear was taking over. She’d felt this once before.

The wolves closed in…formed a semi-circle….

They pounced!

Three went for the venison…but the fourth charged her.

Pack forced firmly out before her, Shelain managed to deflect the wolf off to the side, but it quickly got back up and resumed its attack. Shelain was only vaguely aware that the other wolves were fighting over the venison—but, how long would that last?

The attacking wolf again leapt at her.

For several minutes they faced off with each other. There was no stopping this beast…and soon the other three would also be upon her.

She was alone, snowshoes strapped to her feet, and mentally and physically exhausted.

There was nowhere to go. No one to turn to for help.

This was it.

What would her father do?

Her hand fell to her side.

Yes. The knife.

She unsheathed the gleaming blade.

The wolf lunged.

She missed the first time, but connected on the immediate back swing.

She was soon lost in the frenzy of teeth, claws, and blade when she felt the knife plunge deeply, she felt something hot spray her face, and her attacker suddenly fell on top of her.

She was bleeding.

Three more! There are three more!

“No!” she screamed. “Oh, Father, why did you do it? Mother, I miss you!”

She so desperately wanted things to go back to the way they had been…to the way they’d been before….

Why couldn’t we turn back time when bad things happened to us?

She’d been mauled pretty good by the dead wolf and her grip on her knife was no longer sure, but her survival instincts again kicked in. Shelain was again on her feet. As she saw the three wolves approaching her, she grabbed her pack and dumped it out in an arc before her. More venison and fruit and bread sprayed out before her…and she ran.

She’d never had to run on snowshoes to save her life before.

All she could do was what she was doing.

Run.

 

She dropped heavily to her knees in knees deep snow, heart beating up and into her throat. She was tired, wet, had lost much blood, and was about to lose much more if she didn’t change her situation…

But she no longer cared.

She’d been foolish to believe she could make it on her own, no matter how smart she thought she was. There was nothing to make it to. Nowhere to go. She’d lost her family, lost everything. And the wolves

(where were they?)

would be on her in—

Her hand hit something.

Dragging her knife through the snow to the object, she poked it through to the surface. It unraveled just enough for her to see it.

It was cylindrical and

Made of paper?

A…calendar?

A paper calendar…and there were days marked off.

Well, great, at least she would know what day she died.

The calendar was dated last year…but not all the days were marked off. What a stupid thing to find in the snow…out in the middle of nowhere…a pack of hungry wolves chasing after you—

And why hadn’t the wolves caught up with her?

But…a calendar….

Her curiosity got the better of her, and with bloodied and freezing hands, she began unrolling it.

The year on the calendar shifted before her eyes.

One moment it read 1830…the next 1700…but always it showed past years, nothing current. And the marked-off dates remained the same. The calendar unrolled, she tried to turn the pages, to see other months, but she couldn’t…none of the pages would yield. She couldn’t unstick the pages. As she looked at the crossed-out dates (what day was it?) she noticed how some of the crossed-out dates looked more messed up than the others. Smeared. In fact the very last crossed-out date was really smeared and blurry and anything but neatly crossed out.

She heard the rustling.

They would nearly be upon her!

Good, let them come…put an end to her misery….

Shelain traced her bloody knife tip along the weeks and stopped at the next open day after the really smeared and soiled and blurry crossed-out

(yesterday…)

date. Wouldn’t it be nice, she thought, if she could go back and change things…make what daddy did never happen. Turn back time? Wouldn’t it be—

 

The wolves broke through the snow-covered trees and leaped upon their prey…but only ended up landing upon one and other, instead. Confused, they shook the snow from their lean bodies, sniffing around the indentations in the snow before them.

There were blood stains…her scent…but no meat.

All that was before them was a snow crater of someone who used to be there.

The wolves dug, but never found Shelain. They did find, however, a useless pile of paper in the snow. They sniffed at it—it was not a good smell—and hurriedly left the area, one less member to their number….

Deep in the woods of the north rested a small log cabin. The smell of hardwoods permeated the air as the smoke mixed with falling snow. Inside the soft glow of the fire’s light filled windows, and there resided a small family of three. It was a meager birthday, but it would turn out to be the best birthday Shelain would ever have….

 

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