Entry 5: Cassiopeia

August 12, 1970

Dear Hippy Chick,

     You're not going to believe what I saw last night, or maybe you will if your blond boyfriend affected you that first time you were out here.

     I was lying out on the iris watching the thin stretch of night sky between the trees lining the gorge. The Milky Way was splayed across that gap like it was splattered on with silver glow-in-the-dark paint. Cutting across the swath of stars were five brighter ones in the shape of an M from my vantage, a W if flipped. I was thinking I'd never forget that stunning display when roused by loud slurps. I turned my head toward the sound and there, squatting at water's edge, was a dark form. 

     It must have sensed me because it froze, hands still cupped below chin. Then it swiveled toward my rock, eyes glowing yellowish in the faint starlight. I'm not exactly sure what happened next since I rolled in and splashed away. I might be imagining it, but I can see the shaggy beast's eyes flash red as he stumbles back and crashes away through the late summer woods.

     Whatever or whoever it is, I suspect the drought of these dog days drove him to the spring-fed waters of Anthony Creek. The three teen-aged boys were back today and acting a little more relaxed. They sat out on the boulder smoking weed and watching the gathering clouds. After a while one of them blurted out that the rains were about to come since the State Fair was starting. 

     I can see from the driftwood lodged halfway up the rock face that this narrow gorge can become a raging torrent. I'm hoping my postmaster friend arrives to drive me to Dulles before I'm stranded by flood waters. Sorry to say that I'll be out of the country until we get out of Vietnam and stop prosecuting conscientious objectors. I'll leave this peace journal by the fire pit, trusting it will make it's way into your lovely hands.

Until we meet again,

Your loving Dogface