A few short snippets that never evolved into anything yet I kinda like anyway.
"My mother was 15 when that train derailed off of the Sarrabana tracks. She wasn't in the main mess of things, really; she was in this small general store buying flour when part of the car crashed through the wall and killed nearly half the people there. She was bruised, cut up a bit in places but it was nothing compared to what happened to most others. Bone through skin, crushed skulls...this one man had one of his eyes popped partially out of it's socket. She said he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Probably wasn't alive enough to scream.
Horrible stuff, but nothing that couldn't be shaken off physically within a week or so as far as she went. She told me, though, that things like that. Like that quiet horror of realization when you know you just narrowly avoided being smashed by a train. Or any horror of the like for that matter. She said it fractures you. Not the world, just you. There's a part of you always...lost, in that moment. Part of you never escapes.
...Used to think she was being dramatic."
Too much, they said. Too much and with little purpose.
Do you think I am lost with those who hold up the sun?
I tell you now, and I will repeat if need be: that I belong in the water. My soul is one with the deep shadows where monsters pass as lights in the never ending dark.
When I think of Heaven I think of my front yard. I've always pictured that when I die I will find myself there in the height of Summer, with the trees full of their dark green leaves. I picture you pulling your faded blue wagon with our stuffed animals in the back, just like you did when we were friends.
I think that's because I can't remember a time when I was happier, when I felt ok and thought that everything was going to be ok. You were the first person I loved with this deep, undescribable glow that I have yet to feel again. Sometimes I think I could hate you for it. Never can, though.
You made me want to be nine forever.
How are we today?: