He left, heading towards the blue-on-white double-wide that served as diner, gift shop, and office for the Little A’Le’Inn. It sat low and humble under a solitary flickering streetlight, surrounded by endless cracked pavement and desert—looking like nothing less than the world’s worst disguised meth lab. I looked out beyond it and saw nothing but black.Published on Medium
“This must be one of the darkest places on Earth,” I said. And my mind immediately drifted to Daisy, the reason we were out here at the RV park in the middle of the desert. Was she out there somewhere in the night? Could we drive right by her and never know?
“Dark?” Molly said, kicking off her shoes. “This ain’t dark. When they blacked out the strip for the 9/11 tribute, that was dark. This shit here…it’s nature.”
I leaned back against the cool window. She had a point; what was darkness without something to compare it to? Vegas lights, no lights, towers, no towers, Daisy, no Daisy. I remembered the night I met them both, Molly and Daisy, had been dark…
Early morning is a gray thing in Appalachia, cast shadows of the sloping hills bleed into the languid mists that settle in the Shenandoah valley at this time of year. Almost too still in how they move sometimes. As if the brown and red and orange leaves of the trees are rolling past you, pushing the mountains like old man backs past the ground fog. And the light that filters through, when it can filter through, makes it hard to see what walks in the distance. Almost lets nomads like us forget the enormously tall monsters that shake the ground when they come…Published on Medium.com