"Maybe this house is full of ghosts." Mary thought to herself. "Maybe I should just get out of here while I can and let the town board have the house to do with as they please."Just then more footsteps were heard. These were louder than the previous ones. "If only I could fucking see." She whispered to herself as she found her flashlight batteries going dead on her. Just as she was about to turn the door handle, she heard the sound of scratching at the door."Could it be a ghost or some kind of vampire?" Mary said to herself wishing there was someone she knew with her. She backed away as the door began to creak open. The mannequin form with a scar on the leg walked in the room on its own. "Uncle?"The sound of a tree breaking the window glass got the legs attention and allowed Mary the chance to run pass safely. The musty odor filled her nose as she headed upstairs through the dust and cobwebs that seemed everywhere.The board beneath her feet seemed to bend down low, threatening to. We watched a line of birds fly by, silhouetted against the lunar near-disc. Waterfowl heading south for the winter? We skipped the nearby nude beach the next morning — too chilly. We rolled down into Half Moon Bay. We had to scoot around the town center, blockaded by a ‘police action’. The sound of gunshots gave us energy to pedal faster, eastward into the hills. We rode trails to San Andreas Lake, yes, the one for which the famous fault is named. We pitched camp beside the lake. We were only a couple miles from SFO airport but it felt like a mountain retreat. Our ‘camp’ was mostly a tarp hung from ropes between trees, with a groundcloth under our joined sleeping bags. Another couple had a similar setup fifty yards away. We noted each other fucking. Nobody offered to share. We rode down to the El Camino Real the next morning, then back up to The City. We fornicated for the rest of the day. Why not? — Other weekends, I thumbed to some friends’ spread near Austin Creek Redwoods above.
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