thought came to him that, no matter how the party fought, their battle was one that could not be won.
The seasons had changed, and so much fun and festivity could not be called back. It was all memory now, all sentenced to forever onward reside only in imagination.
Ralph did not voice that sentiment as the hunting party danced in the river to celebrate the killing of the Beckford bottom beast. Let whatever sentiments come to his friends that might. Ralph had no desire to express any notion contrary to the one of victory.
They retraced their way back upstream. The current now moved against them, and each felt exhaustion grab at their soaked shoes. Once more, they slithered, undetected, past the clubhouses of Lacey's uncles. Once more, they shambled through the ivy and weeds with their skin beginning to itch. Once more, they mounted their bicycles and pedaled back to the homes that, for perhaps a few seasons more, waited for them in Beckford.
Lacey slowed her bicycle and signaled for Ralph to do the same and fall a bit behind the pack.
"Thank you Ralph Stewart."
"For what?" Ralph's heart raced as Lacey smiled. Her green eyes sparkled more brightly than he could ever recall. "I didn't fight against the monster at all."
Lacey shook her head. "You did something more than fight. Oh, thank you, Ralph. Thank you for believing it was a monster."
Ralph froze. Lacey pedaled back to the hunting party before Ralph thought of extending his hand towards hers, before he could even dream of leaning forward to see if she would return an offered kiss. He froze only for a moment, but a moment was all it took for Lacey Tulley to be gone. Though he wished for another occasion to be so near her for many years more, Lacey Tulley would never again be so close to him.
The summer stretched long and hot. Without an arcade to feed upon their quarters, with no theaters, ball diamonds, fireworks or vendors, there was little a kid could do in languishing Beckford. Thus the first to be counted among the initiated, those first to taste the charge that waited between the positive and negative terminals of a nine-volt battery, were approached by many of their classmates who asked questions of the night that hunting party had pedaled their bicycles to the river to confront Beckford's bottom beast.
Skunk claimed the river monster had possessed the heads of three different trolls crowded upon one body, that its severed legs had to be burned to prevent the limbs from crawling back and reattaching themselves to the torso. Darin described how the single shot of his rifle had dropped to the ground a winged, flying serpent dragon of narrow eyes and terrible, noxious breath. Brothers Brad and Brian detailed their struggle to fend off the ghastly river spirit with a weapon as dull as their father's hammer. Ralph never heard any of his friends tell the same tale twice.
Lacey Tulley never described the monster she faced to anyone that summer, never described what beast she saw in any summer to come.
Beckford continued to dwindle no matter that hunting party's efforts. Shops continued to close. Grandparents continued to fade. More children suffered darkening bruises.
Some monsters, like the Beckford bottom beast, simply could not be killed. Some seasons can never be brought back.
Yet for one night, Ralph and his friends had fought. For one night, the monster gave them all a face against which to rage, and against which to fight.
The Beckford Bottom Beast Page 3