The sun only warms

It was the hottest day of the year in Eelbrook Cove; a terrible day to be stuck in a metal green compostable bin outside the town’s community kitchen.

It was garbage collection day, and all the neighbours in the small rural community had placed their trash on the lawns and sidewalks, creating green lines through the streets. They complained about the horrific smell that every second Tuesday morning brought, a nauseating and repulsive odour of all their collective organics combined.

But to the animals in the nearby woods, the putrefying smell could only be described as tempting. Deers, skunks, birds and raccoons that would usually never even look beyond the dense treeline that separated them from town were now stepping on the edge of the forest, testing the waters. Yet none was as bold as a young, patchy raccoon, who was the unfortunate creature that ended up at the bottom of the trash, unable to escape.

The raccoon had been first drawn to the smell of the decomposing fishcakes, rotting bell peppers and mouldy bananas when it had gone into town through one of its most low-key alleyways. It immediately followed the stench, leading to a metal bin that stood tall in front of an old-timey brick building next to the town hall.

It was around lunchtime, and several people were strolling through the area, leaving their offices to grab coffee at a downtown cafe. Just at that moment, a raccoon decided to investigate a nearby trash bin. Thanks to its perfect timing, it went unnoticed by the passersby, maybe because they themselves were too busy complaining about the smell or maybe because they had gotten used to going about their days in complete tranquillity.

However, what was supposed to be a successful search quickly turned into misfortune. As the raccoon pried open the container with its small claws and jumped inside, it soon realized that the trash was deeper than expected. The poor animal fell face-first into a sludge of rotten food.

Panic set in, and in its frantic struggle to escape, the raccoon spread the slippery mess along the walls of the bin, making it impossible to climb out. Five minutes later, it lost its energy to keep attempting and finally stopped fighting.

Ten minutes passed, and the animal’s eyes had adapted to the dark environment, seeing clearly what its surroundings were, but with no way of making a clear plan to escape. The heat was dissolving everything around it, including its own body. The raccoon naturally started panting, and it kept trying to make sounds every few minutes to see if another creature -- even a human -- would hear it and let it out.

It attempted to drink some of the surrounding substance, and it appeared to help. The raccoon had not had a proper meal since the spring, when it welcomed to the world a nursery of kits, all of them with their own needs it needed to prioritize. It drank, drank and drank, ignoring how warm the slob was…how dizzy and confused it was from the heat… how tired it started feeling.

Its eyes fluttered. The darkness felt heavier now, not just around but inside.

Its breathing slowed. The rancid stew of decomposed waste had soaked into its fur and paws, and it no longer had the strength to groom it off.

As death started feeling more and more inevitable, the raccoon heard a low, mechanical growl, and suddenly, its world turned upside down. The claws of the garbage truck immediately attacked, and if not for one of the workers hanging from the door, that would’ve been the end of the raccoon.

The bin stopped midair.

The worker jumped off the truck and walked over, holding his nose with one hand while the other yanked the bin's lid open. He stared down for a second, squinting into the dark.

When he realized what was inside, he made signs to the rest, which the animal could not understand exactly, but it knew immediately when the bin was being lowered and then carefully tipped.

The raccoon was too weak to jump out.

When he realized what was inside, he made signs to the rest, which the animal could not understand exactly, but it knew immediately when the bin was being lowered and then carefully tipped.

The raccoon was too weak to jump out. Its limbs twitched feebly as gravity shifted, and a slow cascade of waste slid out beneath it. It hit the pavement with a dull thud, too exhausted to move, too dehydrated to cry out.

The raccoon lay still in the sun, breathing shallowly. A few flies landed on its fur.

The men who had just saved it gave it a sad glance, but knowing they had to continue with their duties, they left it where it was, not even moving it to the shade of a nearby tree. One of them held a small black box to his ear and began making sounds into it, which the young, scruffy mother raccoon could easily have mistaken for a hallucination. The humans behaved so strangely, so differently from the other animals it knew.

Their voices drifted away. The engine rumbled. The truck moved on.

Under the searing August sun, the young raccoon teetered at the edge of life. Its vision swam in and out. Sometimes it saw a dappled forest canopy. Sometimes, a blur of clouds. Sometimes, it saw its babies.

Somewhere deeper in the woods, a kit cried softly for its mother.

The raccoon didn’t hear it; instead, the sun climbed higher and higher.

It took a few more minutes before a cold feeling washed over the raccoon. It was refreshing and reviving, and it finally bolstered enough strength to jump out of the sun and run toward the familiar shade of the trees in its home.

Except this forest looked much older.

The air was thick with moss and memory. The trees were towering giants with bark like ancient stone, and their leaves whispered in a language the raccoon did not recognize but somehow understood. There were no footprints, no broken branches, no scent trails.

Plants it had never seen before lined the forest floor. Great ferns curled beside glowing mushrooms. There was no trash here, no wires cutting through the canopy. No distant hum of engines or scent of burnt oil.

This was not the forest it had left behind. The temperature there was still summer-like, but not as warm as the last few years. The sun no longer scorched here. It only warmed.