Bears on the Road to Damascus presents a mad hodgepodge of the real and the fantastic, a literary buffet designed to please several palates. In this collection of short stories and essays, often macabre and always touching, strange tales of terror, love, absurdity, violence, loss, and conviction await. Just when things may seem a bit bleak, charming folk tales emerge to inspire and delight. The title story tracks a convoluted murder mystery in the beach town of Santa Roma, a strange place where the ocean hints at favors-but makes no promises. This collection contains a first-person account of occupying a campus administration building in protest along with hilarious, satirical news articles; a long-lost script of Sarah Palin's Alaska; and a heartfelt essay examining our place in history, and the path forward. With a little something for everyone, Bears on the Road to Damascus is an indescribable and peculiar adventure into pure imagination.

BEARS ON THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS

A COLLECTION OF STORIESBy PATRICK ROONEY

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Patrick Rooney
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-0674-5

Contents

Cyrus and the Dragon..............................1Elijah's Violin...................................6Leaving the Bungalow..............................12The Cop...........................................22Dreamboats........................................28The Missing Fort..................................33Bears on the road to Damascus.....................38The Wish-Granter..................................55What?.............................................65Creative News.....................................66Inside Kerr Hall..................................77Why I Occupy......................................83

Chapter One

CYRUS AND THE DRAGON

This is a story from the land of Rane, a mysterious and magical place. The land of Rane is one of mountains and rivers, lakes and forests. The people of Rane live a peaceable existence, and many of the things that do not make sense to you did not make sense to them. For example, in the land of Rane there is no such thing as money, and the people would all laugh at you if you tried to explain to them why they would ever need it. In the land of Rane no person has any more power than anyone else, and the children are taught how to grow flowers and how to play drums with as much seriousness as they are taught grammar and history. In the land of Rane the roads are almost always just hard-packed dirt, and the untamed wilderness is always close by.

There was a boy who lived in the land of Rane whose name was Cyrus. Cyrus loved his mother and his father and his older sister Kim, but he felt that there was something missing in his life, and he thought he recognized what that something was when he went over to his friends' houses. His friend Conor had a pet rabbit, which was a little shy, but which was very soft when you finally got a hold of it. His friend Michelle had a big friendly dog and his friend Stephen had a slinky black cat. Cyrus got it into his head that he wanted a pet.

He wanted a pet dragon.

He went around his village and told everyone he knew that he was going to catch a dragon. The people of Rane all said the same thing: "What are you going to do when you find one?"

Finally one morning Cyrus decided that the time had come. He packed a knapsack with food and things he believed might be helpful in catching a dragon. "Mom," he said to his mom, "I'm going off to catch a dragon."

His mother turned a little watery in the eyes and said that she would be very worried about him, but that if this was something he really needed to do, he ought to go do it. "Just be careful," she said as she waved goodbye. "Find a small dragon."

Cyrus set off on a trail into the wilderness and kept on his way for days, crossing streams and rivers, and always keeping on the lookout for possible signs of dragons—a scorched rabbit skeleton, for instance.

One day he came upon a deep and wide canyon. He groaned to himself, for he had found no such indications that he was yet in dragon country, and the canyon was impossible to cross. To go around would likely take weeks or even months, for the canyon stretched as far as he could see in both directions.

"Oh, if I could only fly like the birds, this would be no obstacle!" Cyrus cried to a large hawk overhead.

To his surprise, the hawk flashed its red feathers, wheeled around in the air and touched down in front of him.

"Why do you wish to cross the canyon?" the hawk asked.

"I'm looking for a dragon," said Cyrus, "and I'm sure there must be one over the canyon."

"Hmm," said the hawk, ruffling its feathers. "I will carry you over the canyon ... for a price."

"All right," said Cyrus. He noticed again just how deep the canyon was. It was a long way down.

"Do you have anything to eat?" asked the hawk.

Cyrus took off his knapsack and dug through it.

"I have peanuts," he said. The hawk shook its head, swiveling it quickly the way birds do. "Blueberry muffins ..."

"That'll do," the hawk said. Cyrus handed the muffins his mother had baked to the hawk, who gobbled them up quick as a flash. "Get on my back," said the hawk. "And hold on tight to my feathers."

Cyrus climbed on, and the hawk leaped over the edge of the canyon. The boy felt its powerful wings rise and fall swiftly on either side of him as they soared above the abyss.

"Thank you, thank you, kind hawk," exclaimed Cyrus. "Now I am sure I will catch a dragon."

"Why," the hawk asked, "are you so obsessed with dragons?"

Cyrus had long ceased to object to the word "obsessed." "When I think about dragons, I am just so grateful that they exist," he said. "They are the ideal creatures. Powerful animals who have arms, legs, and wings, and who breathe fire! It doesn't get any better than that."

"Yet their wings are batlike," said the hawk. "And their bodies scaly. Anyway, hawks are much faster."

"Hoh, I doubt that," Cyrus said carelessly.

The hawk picked up its pace. Its pride was stung, and so it beat its wings faster and faster. Suddenly, the hawk made a tremendous zoom forward, just as a gust of wind from the opposite direction swept over them. Cyrus was blown off the hawk's back with a cry, clutching handfuls of feathers as he plummeted.

With despair Cyrus watched the bottom of the canyon rush towards him, and then he noticed that there was a river at its bottom. The only thing he could think of was to try very hard to keep his feet pointed straight towards the water.

He sliced into the cold water like a knife, and shot all the way to its dark floor, which he pushed firmly against with his feet. With a gasp he emerged at the surface and swam towards the river bank. He staggered onto the bank and collapsed onto the sand, trying to get his breath back and to stop his heart from racing.

He suddenly noticed there was someone watching him—a girl looking out at him from the window of a small house that stood alone by the river.

"That was quite a fall you took," she called. "Come on in and dry off."

He did, and found himself wrapped in a warm towel. He thanked the girl, who told him with a sad smile that it was no trouble at all. It was then that Cyrus first heard a baby crying, and she went to retrieve it from its crib in the corner, cradling it against her shoulder. She must have intended to comfort the child, but instead herself burst into tears.

"Miss," Cyrus asked the girl, "what is the matter? Why are you so sad?"

"I bear a sad tale," the girl told him. "My baby is ill and will surely—" she choked back a sob—"die by the end of the month unless it is provided a difficult cure. A kindly witch cast a spell which would save my child, but its conditions are near impossible! A person with a heart of gold must sacrifice five years from the end of his life, and then my child will himself live a full life. I would gladly offer this sacrifice myself—I'd give fifty years!—but the witch's limited magic dictates it must be a stranger who performs this rite."

"I'll do it," Cyrus said. "Five years is perhaps a lot to lose—that's half as old as I am now, and you could pack a lot of living into that time—but perhaps not so many compared to the entire life of your child."

As soon as Cyrus had spoken, the baby stopped its crying and began to gurgle and squeal with health and good cheer. The girl cried out and covered Cyrus with kisses.

"You, good and selfless boy!...