Vestiges Of The Other

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. The neon glow of Las Vegas made the horizon that colour all year round, however, began to swirl as a lilac mist on that late summer’s night. Initially, for a few seconds on the crest of the valley, the phenomenon had increased in duration and in depth, as if to communicate with those who were watching. The first to notice were a few teenagers escaping the view of rule makers.

“Is it this,” Sam said, waving a half-smoked joint, “or is that real?”

“I can see it too,” said June excitedly, the tall, dark-haired instigator of adventure, “Come on!”

“I’m not sure,” said Becky, “it could be dangerous.”

June was already marching towards the base of the scrub covered dry hill but as the other two caught up with her it soon fizzled out.

“Oh, disappointing, I thought for once there would be something interesting in our lives,” said June.

“Probably best,” said Becky shakily, though it had certainly piqued her curiosity.

“Shall we stay for a bit or what? I don’t mind,” asked Sam; who never minded - happy to go along with anything.

“Let’s climb up and have a look,” answered June.

“No!” said Becky in a tone that shocked herself, “Let’s wait to see if it happens again and then go up there in the daylight. It’s far too dangerous now.”

“Okay MUM,” laughed June, “go and get the stuff Sam and we will camp here and keep an eye out.”

Sam, who would never say “No” and besides would do anything for June, scampered off to get the rugs and supplies, smiling to himself.

They saw nothing else, though they only stayed for an hour or so before Becky’s nerves got the better of her. They weren’t able to get back for another couple of nights; however, they managed to have an exploration on a Saturday afternoon. More people about, mostly hikers off for dusty trails, the odd family with a dog, but the place where they had seen the mist had nothing of promise nor experience to it.

“I’m not giving up,” said June. “we’ll come back tonight and camp!”

Becky sighed with a rehearsed resignation, “What if there are some creeps about?”

“You’ve never worried about that before,” said June, cocking her head slightly to the side.

“Well, we will have Mem nearby (their nickname for the beat up station wagon that belonged to Sam and Becky's brother before he left for the east coast); I guess,” came the reply, “and I guess Mum will be out working.”

“Yes,” exclaimed June, whose Mother never cared where she was, “finally living up to its name!”

“It is a machine, and this is a mystery,” mumbled Sam, as if to himself.

“Thank you Captain Obvious,” laughed June. “Let’s do it.”

So come sunset the trio arrived to the spot–only to find there were a few others there too. Some hippies had parked their vans where they usually parked.

“Oh,” said Becky disappointedly, “there is never anyone here.”

“OK,” said June, jumping out, “we might not be camping here, but let’s see what’s happening…”

Becky and Sam glanced at each other and followed her.

“It seems that we aren’t the only one to see the mist,” said June excitedly gesturing towards a rather grizzled, bearded man in colourful clothes, “One Feather here spotted it too,”

“Yer,” the aging hippie, “haven’t seen anything like it since 1968,”

Sam loved the fact that he was so obviously comfortable in his stereotype and was slightly envious that he knew who he was.

“When did you see it?” Sam asked

“Last night and the one before - dead on midnight, it appeared,” he replied with a smile, “only I am sure it was bigger last night. Thought I was having a bad trip except I’ve been clean for near on five years. That’s why I asked a couple of friends to come along.”

The other two couples waved from the comfort of the small fire and went back to drinking and talking.

“You can join us if you like or …” he trailed off.

As it was a while until the hour, Sam and June agreed to stay and chat, though Becky sat uncomfortably, slightly behind the others. They found they were so enraptured by the stories these guys and gals had to tell about the olden days and dodging trouble, they lost track of time until eventually one of them called Steve exclaimed,

“It’s nearly time,”

They all fell silent as the time approached, and it seemed as if even the breeze stopped and the crickets became quiet, too. Sure enough, dead on midnight, a large plume of lilac tinted cloud rose from the earth, wavering and shimmering as if it was alive. It stretched awake as a breech in the fabric of time and space, and it looked like something moved inside. Something otherworldly reached out, but as soon as the mystery had arrived, it vanished again. The breeze felt surprisingly chill for the desert as the crickets began their song once more.