The fucking third time this day. What the heck was even going on? Why do people feel the need to douse him in so much goddamn glitter? He’d clench his fists at his sides. Who did this girl think she was? He was not pleased, not at all.
I found this spot while mountain biking along the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I hurried and finished the trail so I could return here by sunset. Just like this spot, there are many remote viewpoints of the North Rim where you won’t find crowds and you can camp virtually anywhere you like. This is the part of the Grand Canyon I like to visit.
Kaiba Seto, a rather proud merman, once a member of a prestigious family, once a noble, was washed ashore not all that long ago. He had been “rescued” from the beach, taken to an aquarium where he now lived, trapped in a small space, no longer free to roam open ocean waters. There was only one good thing to come of this, that would be that he no longer needed to share his swimming space with fish. God he hated fish.
However, they fed him only fish, as though that was what he had eaten when he was in his home. As though there weren’t any options. He’d eat when he had to, but otherwise he’d allow himself to starve. He hadn’t been here all that long, nor did he plan on staying here for very much longer.
He didn’t speak the language that his captors spoke as he was so much more used to communicating in song, much like all other merfolk. He was picking up on bits and pieces, he knew the word for his name (at least the one he had been given by his captors), and he knew quite a few other words, it was merely sentence structure that he had issues with.
As of now, it was feeding time, where they’d be throwing lifeless fish into his tank. He didn’t much like this hour, as he should be fed when he wished to be fed, not whenever these heathens decided it was time for him to. Who were they to tell him when he had to eat and how often? They may have had him trapped, but he wouldn’t by give into them so easily.
He swam at the bottom of his tank, looking out the little window by the side. More folk like his captors sat outside with their flashing devices. He didn’t much like the attention he was getting, he didn’t like the ugly looks on their greasy faces, he did not like humans.
Scenes from around the campsite. It got fairly cold overnight while we were there. The first night the only open store had run out of wood so we just cooked soup with hotdogs in it on the jetboil (YUM). We happened to be there during the full moon and man was it full. It was like a nightlight all night long.
We also met a couple traveling from Europe through the states. They crashed in our campsite for the night after getting there and finding them all booked. Would have loved to take a portrait or two of them. Woke up early the next morning to hear them starting their van and immediately told Ricky “wish we photographed them”. He thought the same. We then rolled over in our cozy sleeping bags and went back to sleep. When we eventually woke up that morning we got to really see how beautiful the campgrounds were.
We saw lots of deer. LOTS. including one who thought the middle of the road was the best place to stand. Thanks to Ricky’s eyes and quick reaction that deer is still alive. But they were everywhere. Darting across the road, watching us as we drove by.
Demotte was a great campground. Even the pit toilets were somehow tolerable (or maybe I’m building a tolerance. Yikes!)
I gather you up around me, tuck in the corners of your limbs behind my toes and thighs, and pull you up to my chin. I rub your back until you fall into the dark of a sparse forest, pulled into me like a soft snoring cloud. I hope you dream of Northern Arizona, meadow and pink and indigo, rolling out before you. I hope you never wake up. I hope you never find me watching you become a banner I am sure I will eventually love. So furious and slow.