Blue Moon
By Josh Dean
Through ancient valleys we streak across colorless roads, that for all we know paved themselves. Short gray-brown trees with dangling
convalescing fern leaves, splay themselves languidly and erotically around us, coaxing us into the forest. Small whispers of nymphs
pretending to be sirens tug at hands and the steering wheel jolts towards the roadside.

The blond one yells "Shit!", then tugs us back into the middle of the road by lunging into my lap and pulling against the nymphs. She
sits up and resumes an impassive posture facing ahead of her. "Uh, sorry..." I say "The nymphs, you know, you can hear them right?"
The other, the one with glasses, is breathing on her window then scribbling with her fingernail to display fornicating animals destined
to birth faceless young.

We three are in the closed cab of a truck with no interesting origin. Essential perhaps, for else how would we have it? Though not
interesting.

As we slow down for a winding mile, I slowly become aware of a heavy weight and deep breathing in the flatbed behind us, but dare
not to turn back for fear of what may be there.

"Let's switch" the blond one says. The other just nods and the two trade seats, her beside me staring ahead -perhaps more rigid
though-and the blond on the outside resumes the drawing; half of it having
faded away without the constant breath during the switch.

"Do you, uh, notice anything strange?" I ask tentatively.

"Only that we're not moving." The other speaks for the first time.

"How do you suppose that happened?" Blond.

"I blame the radio." Second time.

"The radio was never on." From me.

"Precisely the issue at hand." Let's not count further, let us name this one Blue -"I don't know how to work this thing." Moon
complains - and this one Moon; after a beer bottle I remember seeing filled with water, floating in sand.

She turns the knob round and round till she finds the only station she ever could have found, the one that plays "How deep is the
Ocean?" by Irving Berlin over and over. I let go of the wheel, remove my feet
from the pedals as Irving's sweet song puts the truck into gear and we rumble off.

Gaining speed now, the whispers become screams, and the ferns stream by and become every woman you've ever seen. Everything
became the colors of flame, and I ran my hand through the air just to see it part the waves. Then I realized we were unconscious in
the flames.

I awake and we're at the ocean. My pants are undone, the blonde's hand, Moon's hand, is in my pants as she is slumped against me
snoring.  I start crying. The other, the one that wears glasses, Blue, lies dead leaning against her window. Her face has been burnt off,
and her body mutilated.

My sobbing awakes Moon and she looks at her hand in my pants before seeing my tears and hearing my sobs, she starts "What the
hell? You Pervert - why are you crying?" She removes her hand. "It's not that
bad. I didn't do it. It's a prank it was probably her-" She turns around and sees too my horror, then shrieks. She clambers over me,
unlatching the door and hurling herself into the salty night air, landing in her own flowing vomit on the ground. I just sit there and
keep sobbing, quietly repeating to myself "I love you Blue... I love you..."