Wednesday, March 4, 2015

875. Things unseen

When I wake, I am blind.
I squeeze my fingers against my eyes, but it does not help.
I am blind.
I am searching for you and I hope that you will come to find me.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

874. There are all sorts of ways to divert yourself

If' we're very well-behaved, we get a pill on Thursdays.
The warden himself walks up and down the cell block doling them out.
He puts one mustard-coloured pill right in your hand.
Those pills fuzzy your brain up for another week, thank god.

Monday, February 16, 2015

873. His master's voice

Chester and Arthur sat in the living room - it stank like shit.
"We've got to kill them all," said Arthur.
"You know that, don't you Chester?"
Chester nodded absently as he watched Arthur scratch at his collar.

Friday, February 13, 2015

872. Snow drift

Snow drifted across the highway, teased by the wind like a murmuration of starlings.
Bits of it were intercepted by passing cars, ground up in the grooves of a thousand tires.
Relentless, the rest of the snow passed unchecked over a fallow winter field.
Most of it came to rest in a drift, piled up against the old farmhouse with the dead eyes.

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

871. Walkthrough

Alice drummed a beat against the wooden box.
"The marks," she insisted.
"Everyone must hit their marks."
They had twenty years - thirty, tops - until her funeral and she'd be damned if they weren't going to get it right.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

870. Sit-ins and walkouts for the shut-ins and standouts

Professor Shea was a tired old radical - a real Long Hair, my father would have said.
He was always on about this or that or civil rights.
It was surreal, seeing him on tv, bruised and black-eyed from the batons but still defiant as he was dragged away from the protest in handcuffs.
"Fuck it," I thought, flipping around for the end of the game.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

869. The way the grass bends

The grass rippled in geometric waves.
The grass rippled, buffeted by the rush of helicopter blades.
Here and there, more helicopters made more ripples.
The heroes and the cowards were all going to hang.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

868. Everybody's mother is already at church

They're all there, row after row.
None of them are going to whisper through the sermon, but they're casting sideways glances.
They don't all know what you did, yet.
But, they will before the coffee cools.

Friday, January 2, 2015

867. Clean sheets

In practice, we all have a conception story.
There is some moment where our parents connect in a biblical and biological equation whose sum is us.
As a parent, you want to be able to tell this story.
This, my mother says, is why I should clean my linens more frequently.

Monday, December 29, 2014

866. The first battle of Hazel Street

You've never seen people so desperate - or so angry.
The two sides clashed under the few street lights still shining.
Where blood pooled, it was black as oil.
This was the new normal.