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Permission granted by author for anyone to distribute this
writing free of charge (including translation into any
language)...under condition that no profit is made therefrom,
and that it remain intact and complete, including title and 
credit to the original author.

Ezekiel J. Krahlin
http://www.gay-bible.org
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MODOC COUNTY FANTASY #1
(a parable for the 21st century)

© 2005 by Ezekiel J. Krahlin
(Jehovah's Queer Witness)




Since Randolph got back with me, he is always figuring ways to
make up for our missed time together. He knows I love to hike
and camp out; and my attraction for the ghost towns of Modoc.
So we head up there: a few good miles south and west of
Newell, in Modoc's National Forest.



The town saloon--long abandoned and ramshackle--is in better
repair than the other rotting structures, so we set up lodging
on the second floor, in the least-dilapidated guest quarters.
And bunk down for our first night ever, in a bona fide ghost
town!

Now, what you don't know is that both Randolph and I are
psychic detectives...thus we can often play together in the
"dream world". He always falls asleep immediately, with his
silly snoring. I, on the other hand, take as long as an entire
hour before nodding off...insomniac that I am. I'm not saying
I don't feel totally relaxed and happy, in the arms of this
bodacious Marine...even if I do miss my sleep.

But I do, finally, doze off and into dream land...where my
ghost and Randolph's stand together, over our physical bodies
(decked out in camouflage jammies for the night, and tucked
warmly in army-navy sleeping bags; we're both in deep slumber,
our eyelids flicker but never really open). From our two
windows we see various ghostly folks tending to their
businesses or coming and going by foot, by horse or by
stagecoach.

"Well Zekey-deeky, does this look interesting to you, or
should we just explore some fantasy world?" Randolph winks at
me.

"I think this could prove very interesting," I respond. "I
feel a chill mystery in the air, that should overtake us and
bring us into their world the moment we step through that
door."

Upon saying that, gun shots are heard on the street just
below, then the gallop of a horse that quickly grows fainter
and silent. A man is shot, and lay there in a small pool of
blood, as town folk quickly gather around him, to offer help.

"He's gonna be alright, Sheriff," hollers a deputy kneeling by
the wounded cowboy. Surprisingly, he's looking straight up at
our window, as if addressing someone there. Randolph responds
in a booming voice: "Good job, deputy! Me an' my buddy will be
downstairs pronto!"

That's when I realize the adventure has already started...and
I'm now wearing a deputy badge myself, along with holster,
loaded gun, and bandolier. I saunter over to the large dresser
mirror (no longer cracked and 2/3 missing), to admire my new
macho look: a jet black handlebar moustache no less, and
10-gallon hat. I'm a hottie!

And so is the semi-conscious cowboy I help carry to our spare
room back of the Sheriff's office. (He's a robust lad, who'll
heal quickly from this bullet wound.) I eagerly tend to his
every need, while Randolph fills out forms in the office. He
later joins me in ministering relief to the comely buck.

Later along in the plot, we discover a killer who has somehow
gained access to the spirit world, while still alive...through
some sort of black art he pilfered from the local natives. But
he only kills other ghosts, not real flesh-and-blood folks
like myself and Randy. Nonetheless, we have to find a way to
stop this evil cur...for ghosts are people too, in their own
way, and do not deserve to live in terror any more than we do.

But it gets trickier from here on: somehow, this ghost killer
also holds (unknowingly) the keys to bringing chaos and
eternal hell to the real world...and that is why we must stop
him dead in his tracks, for once and for all! This challenge
is well beyond my skills as a detective (albeit psychic), but
I know that my man Randolph has the ectoplasmic balls to take
on such a courageous mission.

In fact, we are already packed and ready to visit Scotland
Yard for some evidence gathering and interviews of certain
known criminals from that time period, and place. "Come along
now Watson," he mutters.

-finis