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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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Last Pictures Jason stuffed his gloved hands further into his pockets as he walked over to where Donna was busy taking pictures.
"We need to hurry. Check out the way the wind is coming off the west face of the mountain. Temps dropping big time, we need to get head back to camp."
"Just a few more pictures. The light is spectacular at the moment. I need . . ."
"You've taken thousands of pics today. I'm frickin' freezing! The guide says we need to vamanos now!"
"I told you to wear more layers. Keeps out the cold. I'm fine. Just give me a few more minutes, k?"
Jason wandered back by the alpacas or llamas or what ever they were. Give me a horse any day over these spittin' beasts he thought.
Then again, Donna's not much better when she's in her zone.
He looked up at the clouds moving in and then saw Mendoza, their guide, coming over to him.
"Sr. Jason, tenemos que salir. Ahora!"
"Si. I know. Donna! Where'd she go?"
Jason walked over to where Donna had been minutes before. Then he saw her. She'd climbed down some rocks and was about fifty feet below him on the ridge.
"Donna!," he shouted, but the wind shoved the words back down his throat. "Donna! Weather's closing in. Enough already!"
"Coming!"
"One of these days....Geez, Donna, I wish you'd be more careful."
"Give it a rest," she said, climbing on her llama. "I just needed a slightly different angle. Part of it all, you know. Sometimes, the picture is worth the risk."
The trip down to camp was cold and bumpy. Huddled over the beast's neck, Jason wondered why he ever agreed to this. Cuz you love her, you dolt. Just wish she was into taking pictures of palm trees instead of her 'Talking Mountains!'
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Six months later, Jason sat alone, thumbing through Donna's book. Timing sure sucks, he thought.
"You should bring that with you to the wake," Donna's mother said, coming up behind him. It was her last published work, after all."
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