Sierra's Kitchen

A war-veteran camping in the Sierras may have to come-to-terms with his encounter with a 'stranger' who may be a 'real' Wendigo (cannibal).

Here's a nice film-fanfiction (non sci-fi) to sign off with, inspired by Ravenous (Guy Pearce). Thanks so much for reading, 

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Amlan went camping in the brisk Sierras after returning home from the post-9/11 Afghan War for the United States, hoping to just put behind him the grim realities of antiterrorism related warfare for the West. He packed up his things and drove cross-country (from Boston) to set-up camp in the Sierras and simply sit and meditate and transcend what had become reality to him --- departure from Mother Nature.

He'd always been a pensive man and liked reading offbeat works depicting the journeys of the soul/heart in private-state, such as the writings of Jack Kerouac and Alexandr Solzhenitsyn. He came to love the 'quality' of Earth-IQ as it reflected the deep-state(s) of consciousness and what it revealed about the private-sense of human dignity, which is what he hoped to recapture on his Sierras-trip. Perhaps he'd comment about what he 'transcended' on social-media (e.g., Facebook)!

DIARY: War was tough on the mind; I killed folks out there in the Middle East; I returned home to brood about humanness-IQ.

Things took a turn for the stranger, while Amlan was camping in those brisk and meditation-conducive Sierras in the West. He was greeted by a strange individual, a Caucasian claiming to be Protestant but dressed in full Native-American gear. The man, named Jackson, insisted that his Protestant-faith was a sign of his devotion to austerity but also claimed that his 'ornate' self-chosen Native-American dress/headgear was a 're-presentation' of the loud American 'right' --- to claim identity as a private bias and to therefore embrace any other 'identity' he chose as a liberty-IQ American! Amlan immediately sensed this man (Jackson) was some kind of Machiavellian eccentric and wondered about his 'private' relations with actual Native-Americans. When he asked Jackson if he ever met/courted/loved a Native-American woman of beautiful appearance/visage, the eccentric 'Protestant' snapped and claimed (to Amlan's horror!), "I once kidnapped and shot/killed and then ate a Native-American woman...from a casino (ha!)."

AMLAN: Why'd you perform such a 'radical' act, Jackson?
JACKSON: You doubt my intent, do you, Amlan?
AMLAN: No, no; I'm merely wondering about your 'naked' honesty (is all!).
JACKSON: Well...I assure you, this lovely Native-creature is dead (and eaten) and buried/vanished.
AMLAN: That's evil, Jackson.
JACKSON: How's that?
AMLAN: You can't target a human as an 'object' of your fleshly furies, Jackson.
JACKSON: Oh...you're some kind of sentimentalist...Catholic (by faith)?
AMLAN: Well, yeah, I am a Catholic (incidentally); but you strike me (already) as a demon-hole.
JACKSON: A 'demon-hole' by what standard/definition, Amlan?
AMLAN: Look, I'm a war-veteran; jaded/pensive; I've been thinking about my act-of-killing (for patriotism).
JACKSON: A challenge, no?
AMLAN: It's an ethics-complexity --- drawing out 'ideations' of a real humanity, Jackson.
JACKSON: So...now you're wondering about my 'cannibal-statement' regarding my infuriating Native-woman target, eh?
AMLAN: That's right (I suppose); if I'm to believe you (rather than think you're just being eccentric); sounds evil purely!
JACKSON: I felt evil, Amlan; but I did it; I went through with the act; I did so for one reason --- I was 'hungry' in spirit.
AMLAN: What happened afterwards (if I'm to believe you), Jackson?
JACKSON: I grew stronger...more confident...almost 'god-like' in status/glee; perhaps it's the 'wind' of darkness catching fire.
AMLAN: Hmm...sounds like a 'mad' wandering; I feel pity for your 'humbled' target, a human woman, Jackson.
JACKSON: Sure, you do; you're a fine man; a good man of ethics-consciousness; I suppose I should depart from your company!
AMLAN: Thanks; that sounds wise and good (to me!), I mean.
JACKSON: Your campsite food is quite delicious, if I may add/comment, Amlan (hahaha).

AMLAN: Thanks, Jackson (farewell).

DIARY: I fled home and to my Catholic church and stared up at the stained-glass imagery of spirit(s) and dreamt of my soul.

Amlan wrote a novel about encountering a 'Wendigo' (Native-American term for cannibal wanderer/hunter; a 'craven' evildoer) in the Sierras while camping following his return-home from war-experiences. The novel won him the Pulitzer, and he was relieved to know he'd never come-across that eccentric self-proclaimed 'cannibal' (Jackson) again. However, he'd always fear/wonder if his newfound literary celebrity as a veteran (and then as a 'philosopher') would draw him closer to the stranger Jackson who just might think the novel which brought him great esteem/prestige...was about him!

THE END

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)