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Daniela Gioseffi: THE CAPITULATION:
(A Sussex County Story)

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In Bed with the Exotic Enemy ©1997. ISBN 1-888105-17-8. Avisson Press, Box 38816, Greensboro North Carolina, 27348. USA. Copyrighted ©1997. All rights reserved. [Cover design & illustration by Thea Kearney.] A review of this book by Dr. Fred Misurella of ESU.

THE CAPITULATION: (A Sussex County Story)

Trapped within a giant forest enclosure by a high rock wall which stretches farther than I can see beyond the big grassy meadow, I find myself confronted by their hulking bodies, the vacant hurt-beast stare in their eyes. Never before have I felt so small, helpless and weak that it seems the wind with one glancingblow can destroy me.

There's no shelter from them. Just sleek rock cliffs behind me and a large outcropping behind which I've been cowering for so many hours now that I'm no longer sure for what length of time I've knelt in the grass with my hands and chest pressed to the hard rocky surface behind which I'm hiding. I crouch lower behind my sheltering rock and view the situation with constancy. I can feel a fire starting at the base of my neck and shooting off pin-points of flame like firecrackers in my ears. Directly behind me, a small clump of shrubs and trees shields my back from their gaze. By leaning slightly to the right, I can peek out from my hiding place and watch their slow but graceful movements, the lumbering of their great black bodies, their mountainous backs of fur, as they move about making languid trips back and forth to a large pond far ahead to the right of me in a clearing.

I can barely see that a huge rock wall adjoins the far side of the water, so that even if I managed to get to the water and swim out faster than they might follow, I would come flat up against the high mossy unscalable wall to the far side of the pond. There is no escape but through their midst, though all sorts of schemes skitter through my mind. For a moment, I feel as though I've sprouted wings and will fly over them, a wishful dream. I fairly leap into the air, but a sudden loud snarling sound from one of them brings me to my senses. I look back at the trees behind me. Perhaps, there's some way I can build a ladder, weave a rope, do something before I go mad or reveal myself, but I haven't a single tool other than my bare hands, not even a penknife with me. Only the thick growth of blossoming, berry brambles in front of me and some pines to my right, plus the wayward direction of the wind must be blocking my aroma from their keen noses.

I begin to feel around my feet in the grass for a stone, a stick, anything which I can fashion to give myself the illusion of being less than completely defenseless against their huge hulks, strong legs and fierce claws. My wits are failing me. I think I feel tears sting my eyes, but one doesn't weep when there's no hope at all in view. Even the most daring athlete could not scale the high smooth rock wall behind me. I lament that my curiosity for the woods and its gorgeous wildlife has gotten me into this predicament. I imagine climbing a tree, but remember how superior these beasts are in that endeavor. How long can I last here without food or water before they notice me?

Just as it seems my brain will burst from the strain of studying what is an insolvable and deadly entrapment, they seem to cluster near the edge of the water. The sun is setting as they seem to rumble about in a group. Mothers and cubs seem to rub about and sniff each others' snouts in communion as the moon begins to rise higher and brighter and the forest darken with shadows falling over the Rock Oaks and Hemlocks, Maples, Grey Birches and Hickory. Then I see the strangest thing! The big creatures seem to be come from every angle of the forest into the clearing by the pond. One large black beast passes uncomfortably near my hiding place. Their pace seems to quicken with urgency. I watch in fascinated horror as they mull near the edges of the water. There are six of them them now fishing in the stream. Catching Blue-gilled Sunfish with their long claws and shredding them in their teeth. They fight over a large carp one has managed to claw.

I'm glad that the fish distract them. I feel my pulse beating against the rock or is it the vibrations of their colossal steps, the earth shaking with their enormous weighty movements. My hands clutch the surface of my sheltering rock so tightly that my fingers turn white. The throbbing in my wrists is one with the pumping of my heart. I feel I will faint and that it will be merciful to do so and not feel the inevitable crushing, tearing blows of their tremendous claws and teeth.

I can't believe what's happening. The surface of the rock seems to slip beneath my grasping palms. Slowly the earth beneath me begins to throb. All the creatures seem to stare in my direction with their hurt-beast eyes. I turn from their gaze and leap up and dash toward the trees with a sense of fear so complete that it's hardly distinguishable from ecstasy, the kind of emotion that turns the whole body liquid and numb. I charge so fast that I nearly smash head-on into the nearest tree which I climb with superhuman strength. I can't recall as I perch on a high branch which footholds or barky protuberances I managed to use to propel me upward, but as my mind returns from its utter hysteria and my consciousness floods back from the thoughtless realm of primitive survival in which it has been suspended, I find myself clinging to a leafy branch. Blood drips from my palms onto the leaves in my grasp and falls in tiny rivulets down my shins onto the brown bark of the branch upon which I crouch in terror, balanced precariously high above the ground, just at the height where the tree begins to spread its leafy branches.

...a salesman far off in the city is having dinner with a client. The client enjoys smoking big cigars and drinking a great deal of gin. The salesman desperately wants his commission and needs it in order to live and keep his job. The salesman smokes a big cigar given him by the client though he hates the taste of cigars. He drinks gin though he prefers wine. He's supposed to be on a diet for his heart trouble, but he eats a thick rare steak with the client because the client loves thick rare steak. He is smiling more than his face wants to and his jaws ache. The muscles at the corners of his mouth strain with smiling at everything the client says. He wants to be having dinner with his lover. She is angry that he's always busy entertaining clients and can't manage to dine with her. She's threatened to leave him for his constant neglect. He's supposed to call her and it's getting very late. The client keeps asking stupid, drunken questions. He won't close the deal, but is getting closer and closer to doing so. The salesman has to urinate but is afraid to leave the client alone to think things over or change his mind. The salesman's bladder is going into an excruciating spasm and his mouth burns from the hot cigar, but he goes on smiling and talking agreeably, nodding affirmation to everything the client says....

I'm aware of nothing for a moment but my heavy breathing and a sharp ache in my chest. Then the big beasts begin to sway in rhythm towards where I perch hiding. Their big furry bodies rock to and fro as they come swaying toward me en masse--raising first a front leg and then a hind leg, one after the other: One two, one two, one two, in swaying repetition all of them begin to dance and shake the earth and the tree in which I quake.

Surely it will be uprooted by the force of their giant paws and plummet me to the ground. They dance under me as though they are surely plotting my destruction beneath their great black skulls. One shakes the tree with his giant paws as another climbs upward onto his back. Then I feel its wet nose against my ankle and I slip and slide down its warm back and down the back of the one beneath it and onto the ground into the midst of their staring eyes.

I see bright red color pound in my eyes. I, too, am dancing, dancing with the Black Bears of the mountains of Sussex County, stomping the earth in rhythm with their big feet, as much as a person can dance the dance of the wild bear, and as long as I dance with them they do not trample or claw me, as long as I dance and keep on dancing the dance of the wild bears of this Delaware Valley, dancing their dance, they do not, they will not destroy me.

Copyright ©1997. by Daniela Gioseffi. All rights reserved.

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