15| Chapter 12:
Horseshoe Trail Redux: Purple Bend
The Brained Man Gives Chase
“Take a right up Purple Bend,” the brained says to the suited.
The suited man marches ahead. The brained man pursues.
The slope is rocky. Wide. The hub of all the old logging roads, the connection between the woodlands and reality. Purple Bend.
As they approach the bend in the trail, the brained man casts, “Do you want to know why it’s called Purple Bend?”
The suited man marches ahead, not saying a single word.
The brained man sprints off the trail and approaches a tree with widows made at the reach of its canopy. “There’s an antique glass doorknob, a purple knob, and it’s stuck in the dirt. The HOW, Hunter Owens Wallace, he put it here before he died.”
The brained man begins to clear the leaves.
“I remember it, I remember that I did it but I didn’t actually do it, he did it and I just remember, like the rock bridge.”
There’s no purple doorknob at the foot of the tree.
The suited man marched ahead. The brained man gives chase, and gets it right back.
They pause; the trail is cleared before them, all leaves parted to the sides. To the right is a bordered trail.
“Summer Stroll,” the brained man says, looking to the suited.
The suited man embarks on a summery stroll. The brained man follows.