It had been a harsh lesson—yet
another reminder of how alone he was here. Twelve years since his lifepod
splashed into the pea soup ocean and sank like a stone. Twelve years of almost
dying every damn day as he learned his way around this Godforsaken planet.
Brownie was the first boola he met, only a few days after he had slogged
through the ocean to a shoreline with sand like fiberglass.
Douglas was trying to find
something in the forest to bind up his bloody feet when the curious boola
started dropping pensa leaves from high above. When Douglas picked up one of
the long leaves, its strong smell reminded him of eucalytpus. But they were more like aloe, with a gummy
sap that instantly cooled his cut soles and numbed the sting.
So Brownie became Douglas’ guide,
and eventually his friend. At least, Douglas liked to think so. It helped ease
his heartache a little, to think he wasn’t completely alone here. Would Brownie
have felt anything if Douglas had died first? Would any of the boola mourn for
him one day?
Deep dark thoughts before so much
as a caja nut for breakfast. Douglas shook his head to clear his gloom and untied
the key knot that held his vine hammock together. Holding onto the arm loops,
pushed down with his legs and slowly dropped to the forest floor. He never
tired of Brownie’s feat of engineering with the soft nubba vines.
On the way down, he saw Konk and
Pooter hassling little Nissy. Douglas hooted and thumped his fists on his chest.
Konk leaped away, but Pooter broke one of Nissy’s vines before he scrambled
after Konk. Douglas swung over and grabbed her elevator lines. “Assholes,” he
grumbled as he held the lines steady so Nissy could untangle herself. Most of
the boola didn’t like to be touched.
To be continued, perhaps…
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Dogs in house
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Houdini
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Music
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Sarah McLachlins’ “Prayer of St. Francis”
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Time writing
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~40 minutes
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December word
count
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7,533
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