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Volume 2 Number 2 • Fall - Winter 2010-2011
The road she could recall perfectly. And the girl who burned the picture. And the name of the boy in the picture. A county highway, just two lanes with faded painted lines and a shallow ditch complete with very thick summer weeds that waved wildly at them, promising to hide their secrets of beer bottles and half-burned photographs at least until the second hard frost.
And the car. An American-made car. She sort of remembered the weird shade of yellowish brown, two of the four doors just starting to show the darker tint of rust at the edges. Something, some teenage talisman, swinging from the rearview mirror. It was the other girl's car, left behind by a dead grandparent and handed down through multiple grandchildren before arriving at this crazy place in time and finally earning a name. Nakima, it was called, and if this memory was wrong she didn't care because the way she remembered it she was certain that this was the name of Tonto's horse and no one would ever convince her otherwise.
The girl had a name too, of course, a very proper and traditional name with a Christian spelling that honestly only fit her about as well as ballet slippers fit a cowgirl. The girl renamed herself and all of her friends frequently, always preferring nicknames to given names. And they were usually comical, but sometimes shocking or strange or hurtful. That particular night it was Lucifer and Beelzebub who rode Nakima hard through the thick August air, old headlights straining to slice through the humidity. Something loud and strong, Springsteen, on the radio.
Rapidly approaching the upcoming series of four S-curves, just past the dairy farm with all of the yellow buildings and one concrete silo, the girls braced themselves for the future. Just the front windows were hand-cranked down. Lucifer drove with her denim-clad knees while she flicked her Bic. Beelzebub launched the empty Hi-Life bottles a good twenty feet. The Boss sang true. And the flames ate the boy very quickly.
Kelsey Wollin was born and raised in rural Wisconsin. She lived near the Gila National Forest in Silver City NM for several years, and has now returned to her hometown in the Midwest. She has had one short story published in Snowy Egret and aspires to continue writing and contributing work to various publications.
She lives with her two horses, one cat, and a dog named Sam — who insists on sleeping under the covers.