Encounters with Old Coyote by Laura Koerber

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"One thing about people—they need to tell stories. They can't stop themselves. Stories all the time. That's how they understand things." So said Coyote to Andrea, shortly after she died. Andrea had never believed in any kind of afterlife or gods, so she was surprised to find herself still somewhat alive, floating in the form of a ghost in the soft, dry desert air of Nevada. She was even more surprised to meet a supernatural being with a coyote's face, antlers, and the supplies for making coffee.

"I don't understand why I'm a ghost," Andrea said.

Coyote set his coffee cup down on the dirt beside his rock. He glanced at Andrea, grimaced, and said, “Okay, I'll try to explain. Since you humans like stories, I'll try to explain that way. I'll tell you some stories.”

So come along with Coyote and Andrea as they share stories about life and death, spiders in the bathroom and how Andrea lost her bra at a truck stop, enemy gods and pottery shards, adventures in vomit, what scientists say about dark matter and the fifth force, and other topics both sublime and ridiculous.

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The wavering silver air solidified into a trio of figures too disconcerting for Andrea's brain to process. They seemed to be composed of sticks and feathers, fur, old fashioned clothes, and random animal parts. One wore a top hat and the other two sported antlers. As she and Coyote approached, Andrea was able to identify the tall lanky one as female. Her long curved neck emerged from a bulky black coat and ended in a pointed bright-eyed face. At the sight of Andrea, she shuffled her black coat around her shoulders like a bird settling its wings. Her neck and face, Andrea noticed, were mottled and red, and her eyes held the expression of friendly skepticism that Andrea associated with schoolteachers. Miss Vulture, Andrea thought.

Next to her stood a short round man whose appearance was normal except for the antlers sprouting from his head and the beard which almost buried his small beady eyes. His barrel shape was tightly encased in a T-shirt that advertised the Tropicana. I'll bet he has a lot of back hair, Andrea thought. He must be a Badger.

The third member of the trio barely looked human at all and had no gender indicators that Andrea could see. It peered at Andrea through huge, round, glassy eyes while rubbery lips moved silently. White fingers on blue-white hands waved rhythmically, and it s large ears flapped gently in the breeze.

Coyote tipped his hat and said, “This here's...” He turned toward Andrea. “What's your name?”

“Andrea,” she said. The trio of weird individuals nodded greetings in their various ways. The woman Andrea thought of as “Miss Vulture” smiled pleasantly, tipped her top hat, and asked, “What are you up to today?”

“Not much,” Coyote responded. “Walking around.”

“I meant the ghost.”

“Me?” Embarrassed, Andrea groped for an answer. “Uh...we're been telling stories.”

About the Author: I live on a island in the Puget Sound with my husband and my dogs. I am a retired teacher, presently doing in -home care for disabled people while volunteering at a cat rescue.

My degree is in art, and I am a painter, graphic artist, and ceramic sculptor. The writing started about five years ago, a surprise to me and everyone who knows me, since I had never written anything before. To my immense gratitude, my first book received outstanding reviews and made the Kirkus Review list of one hundred best indy books of 2015.

Since then, I have written ten books. People seem to like them; I get lots of four and five star reviews. My books are a bit unconventional; I mix magical realism with dystopia in many of them. My stories tend to be character-driven and include ghosts and spirits.

I think I learned to write by reading. I am a voracious omnivore of books.

Kirkus Review: https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/jill-kearney/dog-thief-kearney

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