Screechers had needle-sharp teeth and dreadful claws. That’ll happen when people are constantly aiming arrows your way. Get one riled, and he’d slap his big tail and give off a stench as ferocious as an outhouse in August. They were sloppy as hungry hogs.Īnd-I guess there’s no nice way to put it-they stank to high heaven. They screamed at night like demented roosters, for no reason anyone could ever make out. Birds and bats, toads and cats, slimy and scaly, noble and humble.īut I especially loved the unlovable ones. Of course, I was kindly disposed toward all of earth’s creatures. The scarier, the smellier, the uglier, the better. Even as a wee child, I was drawn to them.
The earth is old and we are not, and that is all you must remember.
In any case, the whens and wheres don’t much matter. The moon, after all, still smiles from time to time, and the world still spins like a dancer through the skies. But it’s always there, if you know where to look. True, magic was gentle then, and plentiful. It seems forever ago, and perhaps it was, though things weren’t really so different. Once upon a time, when stones were soft and stars were bits of dust, I loved a monster.
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