| I Am Ira Watts & You Are The Forest |
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| By: |
| Published on 19 Jun 2023 04:13 |
You stare, dissatisfied, at the burning circle at the edge of your front yard. It's so large, and it smells so sulfuric. It's killed the beautiful native grass you'd been cultivating. But at the same time, you know it was your fault. Not entirely. But just a little bit.
(Former) Special Agent Ira fucking Watts can't score a date. Incredible.
You lift your arm and tilt your head down. You look at the card he left. An identical circle is inscribed on the back of it. It's silly, but you end up wondering a little bit. Maybe there's something there.
The sun is beginning to glint off the ashes. It's time to get ready for the day. You go through your mental checklist:
- Put your arm on.
- Brush your teeth.
- Call in. Check on the kids.
- Maybe clean the house, if you have time.
- Maybe go birdwatching, if you have time.
- Fishing, but that's a time thing too.
And you're off.
Your arm.
You don't wear it all the time
which you sometimes realize
is a weird way to treat an arm but
the crux of it is that you don't
always
need it
anymore.
You think about it
The difference it makes.
Your commander would've killed you
if you needed it
before you had it, right?
Because back then you couldn't just choose not to
You needed it to fight,
you needed it to not die
but what good did that do for you?
You lost so much anyway.
You tie it in, feel the cold on your stump
Shiver a little bit
Look at it in the mirror, adjust, adjust
Make sure it's not all fucked up
Nice. Looks good.
You nod
And notice your eye
Doesn't follow you cleanly.
You adjust, adjust,
make sure it's not all fucked up
Nice. Looks better.
You look at yourself a little bit more.
Just for a moment longer.
You've never realized how clean it was
relatively speaking,
because they only got one half of you
the only thing is
in the mirror, they got your left side
and in the real world, they got your
right.
So you can't say "I'm all right"
To people who ask if you were feeling alright
And that
probably would've made you feel a little better
back at the hospital.
But fuck it
At least you're alright.
Your teeth.
Your breath smells so fucking bad
Augh.
You drank way too much last night
For something that you
kind of realize
was maybe
just a little
perhaps
not
that
big of a deal—
No, because you didn't know what was happening
What his intentions were
There was fear there
That fear was real.
You realize you're still holding his card
When you feel it crumple in your hands
Because what he said about
signals and "this is all coming from you" and "I'm not doing anything"
was actually
pretty fucking rude.
That is not what de-escalation is
and you know that because that's been your job
for forever now
but
well maybe it's not something he's used to
and maybe he was just scared too.
You uncrumple the card and set it on the sink next to your toothbrush.
Alright, fuck, fine, maybe this is a nuanced situation
that maybe you could've handled better and maybe
he could've handled better and maybe you both have
issues with your identities that stem from
trauma and fuck and shit and whatever.
Man.
Oh, right,
your toothbrush.
You wanted to brush your teeth.
The deer steps away,
looking at him from a better angle;
The kids.
It's summer so you have no reason to be doing this
but also you
like your job probably a little bit more than you thought you would
so occasionally
you call in to the head of the project to ask about your little proteges.
for your employers' track record, they're surprisingly easygoing
on them — letting them off for the summer to play around
in good old NegaSeattle, wandering off to have little
teenage adventures and whatnot.
so at the end of each month
You call Director Church and ask her for updates
"what are they up to now that they're out of my class?"
"staying out of trouble?"
"being good?"
"growing up?"
and her answers are always vague and cagey
but you've learned to read Foundation lingo
so you know that means
they're all good.
That always makes you smile.
You put your phone down, next to the crumpled card.
You take off your prosthetic—
The house.
—you don't feel like cleaning today.
The deer
watches back
while he's out
birdwatching.
You cup your binoculars like they're the scope of your rifle,
the training that never leaves you.
But there's peace and splendor here in the trees,
and you don't worry about any villains lurking.
You put down your binoculars to shift your hair,
it's hot out, and you're sweating.
But beneath the diamond-shaped leaves on trees,
you feel cool, safe and protected.
You haven't seen any birds today
a little odd but that's okay
maybe it's an alone time kind of thing.
So you've got your Scotch beside you
on your tree-attachment chair
legs sprawled either side
in some brown cargo shorts
(you never wear anything like this usually, unless you're chilling alone like today. It's a nice feeling.)
You bring your binoculars back up and
to your shock you see antlers in the distance
taller and sturdier than any moose, stag, deer, etc.
and you watch them through the thick tree line and bushes
but for now you can't make out what is underneath them, what
strange animal has such sinewy, web-like structures
perched upon their head like demon horns or a
crown of some sort or something more
mysterious and beautiful.
Woah.
You slide your binoculars down once more
to see if you can see all the way out there
to see if you can see the antlers past the bush.
Yeah, wow, you can.
Your one eye still works well.
You stare in wonder, how the sun glints off them
when it comes out from behind a bush
and you see it is no animal
but a
(woman?)
of powerful stature.
What?
You pull your binocular back up to your eye
and you almost lean forward to get a better glance
almost out of your chair
staring:
This thing in the woods is adorned in a black cloak
strewn loosely by its sides revealing
a humanoid form beneath
slim and muscular and
much taller than you.
Looking down on you with its
perfectly triangular snout
like this:
This thing in the woods has eyes that are white that shine
and its eyes pierce through the forest like a lightbulb
in the dark: but even in the afternoon sun they are
so bright and so powerful and shimmering with
power and color that you can look at forever
but never ever quite understand but it
reminds you of colors you saw while
containing dimensional anomalies
and that's a little bit freaky.
This thing in the woods is.
This thing in the woods with its brown fur
and stout little snout with a black button nose
who looks at you, its forehead, its eyebrows arched
as if in concern for you. It stares in an almost loving way
and you've worked with furries before. But. You never thought
of it that way and now you've honestly found yourself questioning
a few things. So you stare back and try to understand its robes and
its fur and its eyes and the sinew of its horns and everything about this
strange being that is so clearly beyond you, but feels so at home in the forest.
woah
You lower your binoculars,
and it is in front of you.
In the same gracious pose
but suspended off the ground
almost equal to where it appeared in the binoculars
but now in front of you and your chair.
You almost fall out of it
wishing you had brought your gun
and fuck you knew the woods were dangerous
and fuck you wish you had taken your arm after all
but it steadies you with a digit somewhere under its front hoof
and steadies you until you are still, staring at each other.
I have seen you,
In the woods perched
on your chair.
For many years now
I have wanted to tell you
something very important.
"What?"
You must get
into the right headspace
for me to tell you
because you may find it
to be — as you mortals put it—
"a lot."
I do not wish to alarm you.
"You're not from this Nexus, are you?"
No, but
I have worked with your people
before.
"For some reason, I kind of believe you."
You see a great white light surrounding this thing from the forest
an ability granted to you by the hole in your face:
the sight of truth in other beings
and this is the first time you have seen such a white, pure aura, but also such a cold aura
as if this being is of snow
and your time
is melting quickly. "What do you need me to do?"
It smiles.
Fishing.
You and the deer goddess of the forest
sit side by side
on a boat in the middle of the lake
fishing.
It has been twenty minutes since you met
and you've learned a lot about each other—
you told it right off the bat you could see its aura
and it said that was okay because it could see yours, too
and it apologized when it saw how freaked out that made you
even when you didn't say anything.
You come to understand this is a shockingly standard forest spirit
just a little marred by Foundation intervention into some of its dominant concepts.
You never looked into essophysics because that was never your job
but you imagine you'd have more frame of reference if you did.
In any case: It is avoiding the point.
You watch it carefully manipulate its rod
with fingers that were not there before
a spool of silken thread it brought itself
on the end of it.
Your rod just has normal wire on it
but neither of you have caught anything
so maybe to the deer that's just normal wire.
It has been forty minutes since you met
and you're ready to give in and ask
when your line gets a tug and suddenly you look
in the water and you see that the
biggest catfish you have ever fucking seen is
nagging on your fucking line oh
my god
you
try so hard to reel it in
and feel it slipping away
like splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash splash.
When strong arms in velvet robes
wrap around your body throes
and pull you back into the boat
the catfish in tow.
You didn't realize you were soaking wet
but the deer, standing over you,
has now also been made wet,
and the fish between you is slapping around
drying out.
All three of you start laughing.
"Do you think you're gonna want to eat this?"
I'm vegetarian.
"Oh. Yeah. That would make sense."
You take that fat old catfish and you hurl it into the water
and watch it disappear into the murky depths for a second time
and feel a weird sense of pride like you just discovered
something about yourself, so when the sun begins to go down
and you take this deer and yourself back to shore you've
forgotten that it ever wanted to tell you anything but then it
speaks.
I wanted to tell you something.
"Oh, yeah, uh— what's up?"
It smiles.
You deserve to be happy.
And you're taken aback by how to the point it was, for a spiritual lesson from a beyonder-being.
You start the long trek home
the deer somewhere behind the trees
its presence covering you like
a velvet robe.
Come back to me.
You roll around in bed.
You deserve to be happy.
You roll around again.
You deserve to be happy.
You flip the pillow over your head.
You deserve to be happy.
The sun has barely set but you're beat
from a long day of doing things that you enjoy,
something you haven't done
in a while.
It was just things you liked, things that made you happy
but you also got to experience them with a friend
and that is the nicest feeling in the whole world.
You can't sleep even with being physically exhausted
because mentally a whole new world has been opened to you.
Fuck.
Fuck!
You deserve to be happy!
Alright, alright!
You flip the card between your fingers, looking back-and-forth and its front and back. It glints under the moonlight. It makes you stare harder, thinking about your decision.
He understood you. But he isn't like you. You had a good time. But only under duress. He didn't want to hurt you. But he tried to scare you off. Back and forth. Front and back. Thinking, your eye glinting in the moonlight.
You glance out at your yard, where the circle is. It's settled down. Life will grow back over it. The whole thing'll be forgotten. It'll blow over. That's the way of nature. But it isn't the way of people. Maybe you do deserve to be happy. Do something a little risky.
The Foundation did approve his appearance here. He's a loyal contractor. You do feel lonely, sometimes, honestly, yes, yeah. Maybe.
Maybe.
Oh, fuck it. The yard is ruined anyway. You march right out there under moonlight, flip the card over so you can learn the ritual — yeah, your wards are stronger at night. But that's just how you like it. You feel like he'll like it too.
You're not exhausted anymore. You feel happy. You deserve this. Let's get going. You begin the ritual, whatever that means to you, you take a swig of your Scotch, you look out at the tree line and feel the forest looking back at you:
I'm Ira fucking Watts. Fuck yeah, dude.
And you're the forest.
Hello everyone! Thanks for reading my RomCon entry, featuring my own Deer, Raddagher's Ira Watts, and references to
Greyve's Belial. This is a direct sequel to Radd's Round One entry, which you can read here. You should also need to check out Radd's amazing sequel to my Round One entry, How To Walk On Air And Poetry. DO IT RIGHT NOW. Happy reading!
