The Golden Head
by Lois Palmer
“There!” June pointed to the small clearing. “See the dogs’ head?”
“All I see is a pile of debris shining in the sun. I’ve tried to tell you the story of the sacred dog is just a urban tail started by the Ferengis to separate tourists from their money.” John started back the way they had come.
She grabbed his arm. “Please, John, I know this is it. The old man said you would find it where the sun paints a sign. See a nose, eyes, and ears? The sun casts its shadows just right. He said the story of the sacred dog head is true. The man saw it when he was a small boy.”
“What he saw was after the cacao leaf. How much did he talk you out of?”
“Nothing, just a pack of cigarettes. Please, help me pull the debris away.”
“All right, if you promise if there’s nothing, you’ll stop this foolish hunt. You’ve spent a fortune on this folly already.”
“It’s my money, but I promise if we find nothing, I’ll not ask you to go again. I’ll find someone else.
They pulled all the accumulated brush until they came to the forest floor, with a scattering of small rocks
Let’s go, June, there’s nothing.” John took her shoulders and walked her back the way they had come.
June turned for a last look. I’ll be back. I know you’re there.
They didn’t see the golden, dog head emerge from the forest floor.