To read the first installment in the Open Mouth Series, click here. Otherwise, this post won’t make sense. Besides, it’s yet another photo of me with my mouth open.
That girl, she almost did a number on herself when she saw that grizzly bear scat. She slipped and skidded and cursed and screamed all the way down a very big hill. Over rocks. Under low-hanging branches. Through tight spots.
She only fell. Once.
Torn and bloody, she staggered onto the rocky shore of an alpine lake. At one end, a glacier calved into ice water. She stood at the other end, breathing. The scent of Christmas filled her lungs, and she drank it in.
Until she realized, she wasn’t breathing alone.
When she whipped around, two big eyes watched her from a height. They moved closer, attached to hair and skin and fangs and……
Did you call that place in Juneau? We need to make that call before we get on the boat.
She blinked. Why was that big grizzly bear speaking? To her?
Dollar signs shot through her eyes right before she caterwauled in fright, before she blinked again and realized the Bear Sasquatch Creature was really the love of her life.
Imagination. It’s really everything.
Just let me zip into this phone booth over here. I’ll make that call right now.