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fiction

it didn’t leave its name

The thing that watches keeps chewing the air. The sound of its voice is like the husky clatter of corn stalks in the late fall – hungry. Hungry and damned.

Zoltar told me it would be so

...the paper itself will come apart, will dis-integrate, will allow itself to let go of itself, each piece becoming a new entity apart from the whole.

three out of four ain’t too bad

It was the result of a brokenness in his body.

times long past

He would sit there, with his tight frown, his pent-up bowels, his shoulders narrow again like a boy’s, his paper-thin skin shaking and he’d wait.

spread like snow on a windy day

Would you beat Old Franky like a rented mule rather than just let Old Franky be Old Franky?

a thanksgiving of things

As a kid, I’d imagine green florets budding out from under the soft and torn fingernails...

bus to somewhere else

There is a symmetry in odd places.

outside looking in

As I got closer to the door, I thought less of the thing on the other side and more about the flow of light – the way it cascades like water in undulous, radiative motion.  The way it comes, brilliant, from a source, and spreads like the rays of the Sun King’s crest – a halo of crespuscular rays.

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