A Zion Halloween

The waves scream thunderous roars, crashing fury down on the banks of the shore, washing away the footprints of the wandering man. He stumbles along into the night, his bare feet swollen and calloused from relentless walking. Nothing stops him as he wanders in his own world, a world easily distinguished from his blazed pupils, sparkling blue. He’s a beggar. He’s a thief. He’s a father. He’s penniless, not by choice, but by addiction.

His name is Zion. Zion is a man around my age, a dark-skinned Hawaiian man with short scruffy hair thinning out over his scalp. His stubbly beard shows signs of age from its graying. His chest is flat perspiring wit sweat and he’s in a drug-induced daze from days of binging. He scours the beach at night scrounging around for loose scraps of unattended merchandise, anything to sell for his next fix.

Each day he roams the island between Mokule’ia and Hale’iwa Beach. Maybe it’s by bicycle. Maybe it’s by foot or thumb, but he wanders around. He’s the man without a shirt, without shoes, without water, without a pack, without a destination. His spirit goes where the drug tells him to go. It’s a dangerous, vicious, voice in his head, whispering with a snickering grin, goading him for more. The devilish demon within rips his soul from his body making him fiend for the next dose. No longer does he smoke it, he lights it up on a spoon, ready for injection. Needles he claims he uses for his Diabetes…

Sleepless days and nights flow together as one. He craves more as his mind wanders to archaiac, ridiculous, visions. The costumes from Halloween impair his judgment as he waddles along through the moist, sandy, beach. Paranoia strikes like a bolt of lightning making his heart quiver as his feet trip over a small pit. The pit is not empty, as his eyes flutter in bewilderment from what lies beneath his dirty feet. It’s all a dream in his mind, isn’t it?

He rummages through the sand pit like a dumpster slowly picking up bones, one-by-one. “What did I do,” he thinks, in a slight panic. His hands fumble the bodies lying before him as he counts, not one, but six skulls scattered around the pit like a satanic ritual. He flees in fear, scurrying back to ca to tell of the tale to Jungle and friends.

“Last night I found six bodies by the ocean. Don’t tell anyone. I only told you. Well, two people…Kalei too. But don’t tell anyone.”

I nod my head with a slight grin on my face unsure of the truth to his story.

Zion leaves. His eye swollen, covered behind dark sunglasses, and skin peeling from constant sunlight, a sign of a wandering soul.

I did not tell him to lay off the crystal. It was screwing with his mind and where was the fun in that? After all, Halloween just passed and the plastic skulls and bones that come with the tradition…Well, let’s just say he thinks there is an axe murderer on a killing spree, piling bodies up on the beach.

Not all who wander are lost, but then there’s Zion…

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