Heat At Last Scot Walker   © Copyright 2026 by Scot Walker

Photo by Ryan9270144 at Wikimedia Commons.

I shed my whackamadora and sucked in the warm fetid air, breathing freely on my own. I kicked off my malacatados, feeling the soft oozing earth between each toe, drawing figures with my right big toe, then erasing them with my left, giggling like a schoolboy, knowing I’d never go back to my frozen time when earth was covered with miles of ice and our population was reduced to me. . . just me. I thought, now I'll find a mate here on this ancient earth and swoop her up in my arms and carry her back to my time—to my world!

I felt as if I hadn’t breathed in an hour—there, on the steps of what appeared to be a temple—with columns and a huge dome with the statue of an Indian atop, what in heaven’s name could it have been, and what is it now?

I looked far, far toward the setting sun and saw the ruins of a mighty structure—with marble slabs and an indent along a man-made pool of water and witnessed the ruins of other temples, built of marble, one with another statue—this one of a man sitting on a marble throne.

My eyes hurt, straining as I gazed at it and a rirver just beyond but had to turn away from the glare and as I turned I saw that I was not alone.

There were others here.

Humans, apparently.

And maybe, just maybe, a mate.

There was a dozen or so—all full breasted, laughing women, who apparently were preparing their evening meal.

Nowhere were there men.

I approached, my manhood aroused now but waited a few moments before I walked toward them.

“Man,” I heard one say. “Man,” I knew I was welcomed because I heard the youngest one, the most beautiful one, say, “feast.”

I looked back at my time machine, what a dilemma I thought, will we feast together or am I the feast?

The most buxom of them all—a demure blond lit a fire and motioned for me to approach, and I advanced my eyes flicking from their beauty to the rapine beauty of the fire—so very rare in my ice-covered earth. So, I sucked in breath and approached. . .there was nothing back home, my fate was simple, either way I’d win—filling their bellies or their desires and I thought, fire so much better than ice.