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Of Poker and Fairies

Robert Kahil

It seems to me every time I go camping; it’s broiling in the day and freezing at night.  The great caves in Kentucky give the entire campground the cold shoulder.  The first night I visited Mammoth Cave was almost no different from any other. Except when standing over ancient caves, odd events do surface. 

Night falls fast and heavy in the middle of the dense forest.  Our van was parked at the edge of the campground, trunk facing the tents.  We had to open it to get our dinner from the heavy orange cooler.  My mom used the quickly vanishing sun to light the miniature gas grill.  It wasn’t our first option, but the truck that sold firewood hadn’t dropped by yet.  I was sitting in a red lawn chair across from my brother.

The stakes were minimal but emotionally high in our game of poker.  I only had a pair of diamonds, I was never lucky with the game anyway.  If I didn’t somehow win, I would lose all of my barbeque chips.  I couldn’t let that happen, they were my chips!  I had so much left to; my brother would gain weight as fast as I wasn’t losing any.  That was only if I succumbed to his chip gambling demands though.

If I won, I would win his salt and vinegar Pringles, but I would eat them slowly.  While pondering deeply at my losing hand, I noticed the shadows deepening to great lengths on my red diamonds.  My brother, Ali, was still searching through his stack, too slowly for my patience.

“Hurry up!” I snapped, watching a mischievous grin spread across his face.  His nasty teeth looked even more disgusting in the darkness.  I scowled at him, knowing all too well I was going to lose the tasty crunch of my potatoes.

“I can’t decide which card to put back,” he said after a pause, “they’re all too good. I’m going to beat you,” he taunted. 

“Well I still need my cards, so, chop, chop!” I snapped again, waving my free hand in the air.  A mosquito landed on my wrist, I slapped my hand against the armrest, missed.  I couldn’t see it in the darkness.  It would be back again. 

His past the shoulder length brown hair bobbed greasily as he leaned over, grabbed three random cards, and hastily handed them over.  I took them, stuck the cards in remote error, and sulked.  I was going to lose either way.  Oh, I know what.  I’ll cough all over my chips before I hand them over!  It’s a severe deterrent for him. 

“Okay, put the cards out.” Ali said, putting his own cards out.  I put mine down.  Ali had a royal flush; I still only had a pair of diamonds.  He laughed.  I threw my cards down on the upturned basket we were using as a table.  I was facing the tents, able to see my grandmother chattering with my mom. 

A large creature padded through the shadows toward me, wondering about the commotion.  Bright, excited eyes and a pink tongue flopping around appeared.  My dog, Annie, was always attracted by loud noises.  She was a great guard dog, barking at anything in her sight. In her little doggy brain, everything was a threat to her masters.  “Hello Annie,” I said, leaning over as she stalked closer.

Any time I was gloomy or angry, Annie was the only organism that could make me smile again.  She sniffed my jeans covered knee intently, and then decided for a lick.  Sighing, I leaned closer and looked at her like she was a mentally sick child.  “Annie, I don’t think my knee is going to taste good,” I said, scratching the back of her ears.

Her pitch black fur felt warm when she jerked her head back against my cold hand. She suddenly became uninterested in me. The red wire leash we used clinked against my ankle as the dog went for the picnic table. My mom glared down at her when Annie plopped down at her feet with a loud groan. 

I got up, tired of sitting.  I watched a dark patch of grass and underbrush carefully.  Three wide trees stood in a sort of triangle.  Holly bushes lay with their prickly leaves against the bark of the redwood or oak trees, I couldn’t tell.  Long ferns stretched out from under the bushes, trying to escape the thorny prison.

It was dark enough for the fireflies to start floating around.  They first appeared in the patch.  A few were floating with jerky movements.  Their butts glow the classic yellow.  As I stood near the picnic table, I looked closer at them.  The sun was still high enough to show the details of the forest.  My mom finished the ravioli, the delicious meaty scent assaulting my nostrils. 

More of the glowing bugs appeared, darting towards each other and then darting back.  The slow blinks that vanished as quickly as they came appeared over the wide expanse of undisturbed earth.  I wanted to step closer but I didn’t want to disturb them.  None of the fireflies flew higher than a foot above the ground.  Some of them lit under the ferns, giving it a strange disco effect.

Still, a minute later, more fireflies appeared.  Some of them had sky blue, lime green, bright violet glows.  I lifted an eyebrow at them, I was shocked, and I’ve never seen fireflies with different colored buts. 

“Hey, I didn’t know fireflies had multiple colored butts,” I said.

My mom looked up at the fireflies, along with my grandma and brother.  “The one with multiple colored butts are males, trying to attract the ladies.”

“Oh,” I said wagging my eyebrows once.  Right, I knew that.

The fireflies continued their dance for a few minutes.  The grill was off, so my mom didn’t have to worry about the picnic table burning down.  “They’re fairies dancing for us,” she said quietly, smiling.  I smiled to, watching. 

Now that I thought about it, they did look like fairies.  I was in a new world, Peter Pan’s world, where fairies dance every night.  I knew something though, fireflies don’t dance every night.  This was a once every few decades event, for a person like me. 

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