Shoreline of Infinity 11½--Edinburgh International Science Festival Special Edition by Jane Yolen

Author:Jane Yolen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: The New Curiosity Shop
Published: 2018-05-12T00:00:00+00:00

Victoria Zelvin is a writer living and working in Arlington, Virginia. Her fiction has previously appeared in Daily Science Fiction, forthcoming from Mason Jar Press, and in various anthologies. She is a graduate of the inaugural class of Roanoke College’s Creative Writing program. Her work can be found at www.victoriazelvin.com

A Distant Honk

Holly Schofield

The footprints were as big as my snowshoe, the narrow heel a crisp outline, the impression not more than a couple of hours old.

The tracks beelined from the forest edge right through my campsite, growing more erratic as they disappeared on the far side between dark spruce trees hunched under winter burdens. I shuddered, picturing the clown stumbling through last night’s snowy darkness: hands flapping in the cold, grinning fiercely, a low hoot escaping from winter-roughened lips. With my heavy down sleeping bag pulled over my head, I hadn’t heard a sound, relying on the campfire to keep away predators.

I plodded over to where the tracks entered the clearing, slush sticking to my snowshoes. The sun had risen above the mountaintops, warm for February, warmer than all previous weather records.

A clump of coarse orange hair clung to a hemlock twig, sodden with mud. The email from the game warden had been accurate – the clowns had left hibernation early, the earliest yet, the unusually high temperatures triggering abnormal metabolic changes.

The troupe’s cave would be much farther up the mountain. I pictured melting ice dripping off the cave ceiling, streaking their greasepaint as they lay curled around one another like rats in a nest. With blank expressions and creaking joints, they’d unfold themselves, straighten their faded blouses on their too-lean frames, and honk softly. Then, they’d burst forth from the cave, one after another after another after another after another, bewildered by the bright sunshine, wanting to sate their terrible hunger.

What could one biologist do? I’d soon finish my dissertation on the wild clowns’ shrinking range but there could be no future in coulrology. Since my study had begun, frown lines had etched an oval around my mouth.

At my campsite, I methodically stuffed a daypack for the trip up the mountains. The rest of the gear and food went into my larger backpack. I hefted it, looking for a suitable branch to suspend it from, to keep it safe until I returned. A small bag tumbled out, yellow kernels gleaming beneath plastic packaging. My reserve food, my comfort food. I picked the bag up slowly.

I laid the last of the logs on the remnants of yesterday’s fire, although I’d return tired and cold tonight, and fed in scraps of wood until flames fingered up. The last of the butter coated the cooking pot and softened the clinking sound the kernels made as they bounced. A puff of acrid smoke crept out from beneath the lid and I shook the pan harder. I should have waited for coals but, then, patience is not one of humankind’s virtues.

Walking in snowshoes takes practice and constant attention to detail. I managed to drink

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.