Shy Ghosts Dancing Excerpt, Mark A. Zeiger

Shy Ghosts Dancing

An excerpt from the forthcoming short story collection, Shy Ghosts Dancing: Dark Tales from Southeast Alaska by Mark Zeiger

The first night Dora and Vaughan camped on Admiralty Island, known as “Fortress of the Brown Bears,” northern lights appeared in the sky.

It started faintly, indistinct appearances here and there, hesitating above the mountains across the water toward the north. The two young people held their breaths, watching shafts of light form against the darkness. Dora chuckled, observing how she and her companion kept still as if afraid to frighten it away.

“It’s so tentative, I’m worried it’ll see us and leave,” she whispered, “It’s like watching shy ghosts dancing!”

Vaughan wanted to call that poetic, but remained still. As if growing bolder, the aurora swelled until the sky filled with whipping, swirling sheets of luminescence. Dora rose from her seat by the fire and wandered down the beach, craning her neck to see.

It was then, while Vaughan sat alone, that the aurora borealis spoke to him for the first time, telling him Dora’s terrible secret.

Vaughan had been surprised when Dora invited him to go bear hunting. Some Juneau hunters called her the best woman bear hunter around. Others called her the best bear hunter around, period. Her invitation singled Vaughan out from among several young men, all ardently in love, who continually vied for the young woman’s attention.

“You and I ought to go bear hunting,” she remarked one night. The other guys at their bar table responded enthusiastically, hoping the offer included them. She looked directly at Vaughan, focusing solely on him until he replied.

“Anytime, anywhere!” was all his wit could muster as Dora’s intense brown eyes absorbed him. A classic Native beauty, her jet-black hair shone long and straight between well-muscled shoulder blades. Her jeans and body suit clung to every curve. Its scooped neck showcased her cleavage, prompting the two men on either side to tilt their heads awkwardly for a peek while sipping their beers. Vaughan felt the envious glances his friends gave him. Dora never invited anyone to go hunting. She always responded to offers with her favorite saying.

“Tarzan hunts best alone,” she’d smile, so disarmingly no offense could be taken. Yet, the decision remained firm.

Dora smiled now, holding Vaughan’s gaze, refusing to include the rest of the company with a glance around the table. One of her more aggressive suitors, Charlie Dock, objected.

“I thought Tarzan hunts best alone.” It sounded more petulant than he intended; Dora punished him with a look.

“You’re drinking too much, Charlie,” she said. “You better give me that beer you ordered.”

Vaughan had done very little hunting, and had never hunted bear. He was a camper and a photographer. He often tracked bear, but had no idea if he did it correctly. Judging from how few bears he had seen, he suspected he didn’t. He told Dora as much, once the others left them alone. She just smiled.

“You don’t need to know how. You’ll be with me.”

Vaughan chose his gear with care, trimming the list to barest essentials. Vaughan wanted to impress Dora, not earn her contempt.

As they loaded Dora’s skiff on the day of their departure, Dora plucked his rolled tent from the pile of gear.

“May as well leave this in your truck,” she told him. “Mine’s plenty big enough for the two of us.”

The day was warm for mid-September. By the time they reached the chosen beach on Admiralty Island, unloaded the skiff and pitched the tent, they were both heated.

“Let’s swim,” Dora said. She kicked off her boots and socks, then pulled her shirt over her head as she walked to the water. Vaughan stumbled down the cobble beach, eyes riveted on Dora with eager discomfort as her layers of clothing stripped away. She tossed her panties carelessly over her shoulder as the water rose to her firm, dark posterior. With a dive that revealed her most private places for the briefest instant, she disappeared beneath the surface. Hastily shucking his clothes, Vaughan followed.

The cold water shriveled him and took his breath, but he struggled to make a good show. When he ventured deep enough that his feet no longer touched bottom, he felt a silken rush up his front as Dora surfaced in his arms.

“Yow!” she squealed, whipping sheets of water from her hair and throwing her arms around his neck. “It’s cold!” Vaughan felt nothing but her smooth skin against his, its gentle warmth searing in contrast to the frigid ocean. Leaning forward as if to kiss him, Dora ducked him under water instead. He shouted and thrashed after her as she sped away from him with graceful, even strokes.

As pleasant as the embrace had been, for all its momentary sexual tension, Vaughan realized Dora had not necessarily extended an invitation. She was playing. The moment had an unmistakable innocence to it. Accepting this, he surrendered to her exuberance, participating willingly without attempting to push their activity further. They enjoyed frolicking nude in the icy water, and left it at that. Still, the memory kept Vaughan far warmer than he otherwise would have felt when evening cooled.

They lapsed into satisfied silence after dinner, enjoying the coming night. The air softened. The forest hushed behind them. The fire popped and sighed at their feet. They inched casually closer, leaning in toward each other almost unconsciously. Neither felt a need to speak, until Dora noticed and remarked on the aurora borealis.

Now, as the young woman wandered slowly down the beach with her eyes turned heavenward, the northern lights spoke to Vaughan, telling him things he didn’t want to hear.

The voices, and there were several, weren’t entirely distinct. They crackled and whistled like a poorly tuned radio signal. Many people claim to hear noises coming from auroras. Vaughan recalled a frigid winter night from his boyhood when he thought he heard them sing like a high-tension wire.

“Do you hear that?” Vaughan called to Dora. She’d gone beyond earshot, or had become too absorbed by the spectacle to answer. Confused and a little frightened, he listened to what the voices had to say.

They told him Dora was a bear, disguising herself as human. They warned she had led him to Kootznoowoo, using the Tlingit name for Admiralty Island, to give him to the brown bears.

Vaughan tried to answer, feeling like he did when, waking from a dream, he would discover that his dream shout barely reached a whisper. He wanted to deny what they told him, but no words came. The northern lights, swirling and shimmering, answered as if he’d spoken.

“See for yourself,” the voices said, then fell silent.

Later, the two curled together in their sleeping bags. Vaughan stayed awake for hours. His mind flitted back and forth from the thrill of the day’s intimacy, and Dora’s sweet, soft, goodnight kiss, to the ominous revelations from the voices in the sky.

He knew local Native tradition held that all animals possessed human forms, which they normally hid under coats of fur or feather. Had this idea, rattling around in his subconscious, melded with his memories of crackling northern lights, creating aural illusions? He found it impossible to believe the aurora had spoken to him, of course, or that Dora was a bear. He found it improbable that she wished him harm. Furthermore, he didn’t want to believe any of it.

Finally, lulled by Dora’s gentle breathing against his throat, he slept.

By the next day’s end, Vaughan began to believe the voices.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thank you for reading this excerpt! To read the rest of this story, and others like it by Mark A. Zeiger, order Shy Ghosts Dancing: Dark Tales from Southeast Alaska.

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