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They are still dying. They are still there, dying. Tom’s leg and arm are missing. He doesn’t look happy. He has lost some weight. He has grown a beard. He likes to watch those movies. He seems okay, but I can’t say the same for his sister. She keeps crying. Don’t know why though. Doesn’t Pam know he was there for a reason? We are on this planet for a reason. Dad talks funny. He smiles and smiles. But, when he laughs, there isn’t a sound except the ball tapping on the floor as it falls from the table. |
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The Monster Who Killed the Echo – Jonathan Hartshorn
They are still dying.
They are still there, dying.
Tom’s leg and arm are missing. He doesn’t look happy. He has lost some weight. He has grown a beard. He likes to watch those movies. He seems okay, but I can’t say the same for his sister. She keeps crying. Don’t know why though. Doesn’t Pam know he was there for a reason? We are on this planet for a reason. Dad talks funny. He smiles and smiles. But, when he laughs, there isn’t a sound except the ball tapping on the floor as it falls from the table.
Little. The little, little mess. His tooth looks whiter than before. Can he drive the slip between his nubs, but star-stripped and star-strucked. These are your plums. Red can’t come out to Tillie, she’d go green. With drawn in, bunchie-brow. She had to be in green. She liked green. Jim can’t be trusted. He goes around taking the vitals of a selected few. Just his friends.
Waddle, teeth sharp. She breathes with her hands extended outward. Button tip-toe knackles. Dry your eyepits, timples, pop again and again. Never leads to squaking. You seem simple.
Puddlepudding my corner. The wrinkles crease deeper.
Navy man myself, same haircut since ‘65, she still feels good though, can’t change yet can’t change later. Got this pistol little while ago. Niece shot herself in the leg close to artery. Kid do strange. Can’t say that I do.
8×8
Supposed to rain, 80%.
No, but I did hear. Anything. He looked pissed off. Something eating at the elbows.
Yes I have. To this earth we feel a rumble. The belly shakes but will spit us out in no time. No time. He can’t say that again. He can’t.
Sniff. Your yacking gonna get us looks.
We are still dying,
We are still there dying.
How did you know him. He was a shy fellow. Stayed in his room watching TV. He knows three languages by heart. Nothing elegant, just complicated. He had five words for the letter Q. Family man. Yes. He knew his way around the battlefield. He liked to order your meal for you. Saves time. Helpful. So damn helpful. We can see the fuzz. The fuzzy fog, the glimmer of nope. Spit out. Spitting. Pitted.
