Howl Your Appellations

The Things Lost and Found

                                                                                   BOEN OPEOR

        Abalone, or more specifically, the Abalone Forest is considered the counterpart of the deep sea. It’s a large body of land with untamed trees and candid caves, some people compare it to the dark side of the moon: dense and enigmatic. It’s no question why my Pa built a cabin here, it’s a breeding ground for the occult and the elements. Maybe my Pa and his friends had an affinity for these things. Maybe that’s why Beanie stayed after they all parted ways.                                                                                                                          By the time we reached the terminal, it was 5:23 pm. The next Gondola would arrive at 5:25 pm, so Beanie and I had one last chat while we wait.

        “I hope you really do enjoy it here Boen. There’s so much this island can offer, and if you’re lucky! You’ll meet some truly extraordinary people. I sure did.” He gives me a smile, the one that glows but in a sad way. I nod, “Thanks. I’ll keep a look out for them! Oh and uh, here. Back at the café I said I’d crochet you one.” I gave him a grey ear warmer. I’m not sure if this is what he meant by horn warmers or if he was actually asking me to literally make horn warmers for mountain goats but he accepted it and gave it a try, “How do I look?” He strikes a magazine pose. “You look easily stylish with them on!” I proudly reply, “I put holes for your glasses too so you can put them back on.” His face made an expression that’s half a gasp and a smile. He put the legs of his glasses through the side holes, “Child you are the best!!” he exclaims. I give him a proud smile, “You know it, old man!”

         The 5:25 chime echoes. This terminal is one of the smaller ones so not a lot of people use it, there’s less variety. He gets on the bean-shaped Gondola and straps his cute mountain bike with a basket to its side. He waves me a happy goodbye. I waved with both my hands until he was too small to see. I looked up to him a lot as a kid, and sometimes that part of me peeks out like a worm on days as rainy as this.

          I drove home to witness the sunset behind the fog as I descend into the woods. Soft meowed as if she understood what a sunset was. I meowed back to affirm that she’s correct. I park my silver white chameleon sedan in its shed, which is a few meters away from the road. There isn’t really a proper pathway for the car to reach the cabin, my grandfather wanted to keep it semi-hidden so that he would feel “hidden by the forest” or something, classic geriatric stuff. I take my flashlight, my yellow tote bag of crochet wonders and Soft onwards into the woods. She always curls up on my shoulders like a cozy little scarf as we tread, a sign of affection or laziness? Who’s to say? I pass the tree with purple nightshade leaves. It resembles a sign that indicates a fork in the road; left or right? I turn my camera to the right. The light trail reveals a narrow path which leads to nothing immediately, but eventually, the cabin (sorta). The trail illuminates bushes, stones, mushrooms and the thick spruce trees. Nocturnal sounds from invisible creatures faintly rise and loom. An occasional firefly would pass through the gaps of the trees with its buddies illuminating the trail with their tails.

        Further into the narrow path, the branches of the low trees sag and akimbo outwards as if holding a fan of secretive leaves; and the grass starts to thicken like a coat of the sea as it flows. The rut-like path continues on for about five more meters and by its end, a tunnel through the mountain and the trees reveals itself. Beyond the short tunnel is my cabin.

       “I can’t believe I made it!!” I scream as I unlock the front door and turn the outdoor lights on. They’re supposed to be automatic but I keep needing to turn them on manually. Soft jumps off my shoulders to climb on her little wall tower and retreats to her abode never to be seen again…until supper time that is. I leave my black satin deck shoes on the shoe rack and climb up the foyer, “There she is!” I exclaim as I place my eyes upon the conversation pit. All my favorite plush toys and pillows in the same place, my little heaven on earth. I hang my trusty tote bag and keys on the triangular wooden organizer and spread the linen cotton curtains covering the glass balcony doors. The night and the forest seem to mesh perfectly, if not for the stars and the moon floating adamantly. I breathe in the view and convert it into energy to whip myself up a meal. Dinner for me will be reheated lasagna and for Soft, wet with dry cat food.

           We both sit in the conversation pit to eat; while preparing, I realized that I ripped my stockings, it must have ripped while I was skipping in the dark, so I took it off. Now, cozy me’s only wearing my long over knee pajama dress. It’s all white with blue rims on the sleeves and this proud face ‘’ (´ ｰ `)” in the middle.

        As we began eating, I decided to educate Soft about the roof she’s eating under, “This cabin was not built with a definite look in mind!” I tell Soft as she munches, “It’s Pa’s hodgepodge, his hydrangea of miscellaneous interests!” I tell her. She looks up from her bowl and stares at me, then proceeds to eat again. “Whoever he might have been, I at least wanted to meet him. All I know are stories of him and his cheesy anecdotes relayed to me by Beanie. Why would he will this cabin to me?” I stare at my moon ring, the crescent moon is embracing a small opaque gem of unknown origin.

                                                                                       ⁂

                    The morning is crisp and beautiful. I look over my planner to see that I have no deadlines today. The birds’ chirps are honey to my ears, a very good morning indeed. On days like these I get super giddy. I decided to document and take pictures of my adventures the first day I set my eyes on this cabin’s bare black walnut wood and alabaster walls. I’m going to fill one whole wall with pictures, all kinds of them, that way there’s a little bit of everything in them. A few days ago, I took a picture of a c***k in the road with a gay little flower peeping through it, blushing pinkly. The road seemed abandoned, I honestly don’t remember how I got there in the first place but if it was used, it would’ve been fixed ages ago. Further down the road laid more cracks, like sunburnt skin, and each c***k held a little flower or two. I began to think about all the things that’s been left behind and stayed left behind. They will be the first subjects for my wall pictures, I decided.

                       I’ve had a very pleasant sleep so I feel extra gay and motivated today. I’m wearing my favorite outfit: my white linen bow with red stars embroidered at the ends of its tails, my olive, brown and white-striped crop top, an autumn plaid long coat, my short pencil skirt and regular grey sneakers with stockings! I ask Soft if she wants to go treasure hunting with me. She replies with a hiss so I boop her a kiss on the head, “Alright buddy. I left you some snacks on your dish upstairs so don’t act like I left you to starve when I get back.”

                       I set off, with my grin and my khaki backpack full of snacks, water and survival essentials (just in case I take a misstep and break something. Knocks on wood.). I choose to tread the west side and see what I can find there. For some reason, the west-side woods have more varieties of tiny flowers, each thicket possessing petals of obvious colors, than the east-side woods. I hop on a couple of mossy boulders and cross a small stream that’s split by boulders and giant fallen branches. On top of one of the boulders, I can see the cliff where the cabin’s supposed to be. Just as I decided to venture forth, my eyes are thwarted by a sharp glisten from below the reeds and a tiny mossy stepping stone. I pulled it up and it was a CD, half submerged in mud and water. The words etched on it, long eroded by time; the only remaining identifier for it is that it’s blank white. I held it up into the sky and allowed the rainbow side to shine and took the picture. I didn’t expect to find a compact disk around these parts of the wood, junk would never normally reach this far. The disc glints as if it’s relaying a secret code that I’m supposed to understand. I look around to see if there are other similar objects drowned by the stream. Nothing. Someone must’ve thrown it away and never looked for it again. Well it’s not good to leave unperishable items in the stream, so I’m taking it, not because I like how it looks and shines under the sun.

                        I take a break under a big mossy tree’s enormous roots and beautiful white flowers and take out my choco-bread. It’s from Sea Twin and it tastes delectable. I took a picture of the tree and myself for documentation. I can hear the bird songs clearer without all my thinking. From where I’m sitting, I could view the small forest valley, presumably formed from a dead river. A gigantic lush tree stump sits in the middle of the valley. I snap a picture of it. These parts of the woods are not giving me the subjects I want. I know people like my grandpa used to live here. The forest attracts a certain type of people, and I want to find the things they left behind. I give my thanks to the tree and start to jaunt again.

                         As if heard by the forest gods, I’m met with a curious relic abandoned by humans. East to the mossy tree are spiral stairs made of metal. I don’t know how or why but I’m in love with it. I took a snap and ventured forth. A trail of out-of-place items soon met my way and I was on a frenzy. There was a giant cork as big as a cauldron that had little sprouts growing on it, a mossy boot that does not scream modern, pieces of a stone pillar, tiny moss-grown statues of deer- people and a small door with the sun as its door knob. A tree had engulfed it. These items were certainly not too close to one another so I’m very lucky to have spotted them.

                         My phone warns me that I’m almost out of storage, I really should have bought a camera but it doesn’t have the filters I want. When my phone stops flickering I notice that I’m in a slightly darker place than I’d like to be. The animals that observed me from the trees and the ground seem to have disappeared. I turn my phone’s flash light on and proceed to retrace my steps before I’m completely lost. I hadn’t noticed that the trees are arched and closer to each other like a birdcage. I suddenly hear frantic footsteps from behind the trees, it’s coming from the direction I came from. It gets louder and louder until I see a lady with a tangerine poncho advance towards me at full speed. I tried to move but it was too late and the lady jumped over me; I let out a scream. 

After I fell down she kept running and I took a snap of her from behind. I saw it as clear as day: “TWO WOLF EARS AND A GREY WOLF’S TAIL!!!” I scream, hands aggressively clutching my phone. I lay down dumbfounded, the picture I took is too saturated because I forgot turn the filter off. But the tail and the ears are there. I put my phone down and a large woman with slipshod hair overlay the view of the tree’s canopies, she nonchalantly lifts me up by the shoulders, “What’s a lost faun doing here?” she asks.