What flower breaks...........

And yet what flower
breaks at this hour,
what thread of sunlight
is shrunken by night?

What insect burrows into day
in what soil do your dreams softly lay?
What cruel rain tumbles from the sky,
where does the soul lie?

HELL'S VISION BLINDED

REBELECTRIC ZOMBIE

HELL'S VISION BLINDED

written by: MZ CLARKE

@zoeandme

Under a skull jaw's moon
Hell's partially digested evil
thrown back up
through Purgatory's gouted throat
spewed back to poison earth and hell's kind
I can hear the battle cry again
the gasp of war
is the grasp of death
in the savage scarred hands of Man
becoming murdering machines
I sharpen my swords
that dull the mind
and slay the soul
as I raise it
what life do I take
as I make the map of mass destruction
in my own image?

I walk in the dust of destruction
raised by monsters marching
swift bloodmarks
under the veil of steel
war paints the portrait
of the end of humanity
as a final vanity
mirror image

Is there a way
to reverse the revenge of man
against himself?
As skin holds the universe in its gravity
and blood the body count
I must breed the cells of salvation
in a dish as large as Neptune's ocean
to heal the wounded warriors
back to human
as the first gasp of war
is the first sound
at birth when given a name
the last gasp of war
Death forever more
as the first and last ingredient of blood
is life

I awoke to bites at my neck and face
the offspring of my brief affair with my only true love - Jordan
two vampires dragons sucking my electrified marrow
I jumped up screaming which seemed to frighten them
and they whimpered away as frightened puppies
"Stop, no biting!"
They looked terrified and cowered as if they knew they had eaten my favorite pair of shoes
I immediately named them Lady MacBeth and Ophelia - nickname Mac and Ophe
That's about where I left off on my high school English class studies when I was still alive
I patched my wounds while I struggled to figure out what to do with my newborn hybrid monsters

Suddenly an explosion shook the earth
I ran to the window of Seymore's basement and looked out
a blinding explosion a few blocks away
close to Lataham Hospital
I had no time to get acquainted with my children
"Stay. Eat mice only."
With a cat's leap and vulture's vision, Mac and Ophe dove into the corners in search of food
I ran out the door, locking it behind me

I flew to the scene of the explosion
amidst screeches of ambulances and shattering glass
a mile of flames licked at my feet as I flew into the second floor window of Lataham Hospital
I had to find Teri
Dozens of bloody bodies on stretchers being rushed into rooms
I caught up to Teri, a bloody mess, she was limping, her arm was shredded with shrapnel
flesh dangling from bone
I wrapped my jacket around the wound desperately trying to stop the bleeding
"Teri, what happened?"
"A bomb exploded right on Main Street."
I helped her to a room
"What can I do?"
"We're out of blood!  The vampires drank all the blood!  We can't help anyone.  They won't live trying to transport them to another hospital!"

My hand heated up and a light beamed up at me.
The Coracle had a vision of Oah's face
"Use your gifts."
I looked at Teri.
"I need to get into the lab now.  We're going to make some blood."
Teri knew better than to question me anymore
I was dead and now the palm of my hand was like a built-in iPhone 27 with zeltergeists contacting me from their unsettled graves

Teri opened the lab door and I went to work

I injected the electrifried bone marrow from my ribs into a huge container
I don't know how I knew what to do - some prescient knowledge of future technology
appeared before my eyes as a kind of recipe - one part electric bone marrow two parts oxygen
I could see blue air surrounding the bone marrow and then white streaks of light
making it jump up - waking up the bone marrow bits - popping like popcorn
becoming jelly like and slowly moving as if magnetically drawn to what it needed

I looked at Teri who was mesmerized and terrified at this vat of goo that was slowly stirring itself
changing colors from blue to red - multiplying before our eyes

I moved the Coracle over it as if a magic spell and the mixture doubled then tripled rising to the top of the vat

"Are you ready?"  I asked Teri
"To do what?"
"I'm going to repair your arm."
Teri gasped but I didn't have any time to lose grabbing a needle and filling it with this new kind of blood - a new kind of stem cell therapy - maybe
I injected Teri's shoulder and watched the blood congeal -
Teri started crying
"Does it hurt?"
"Do flames of hell hurt?  Goddamn it, if this doesn't work-"

But it did work.  Her flesh grew itself back, skin and all in slow motion as lava covers old earth with liquid fire, cooling and pooling in its joy of expansion, stretching its magic down to her fingertips

"A miracle."

My heart raced, my brain seemed to explode with all this new knowledge cracking open my old skull

"Get the rest of this to the others."

"How am I going to explain this?"

"Don't"

When all that remains is madness and monsters
What gifts could I give to the world
that monsters in their terror unfurled?
The blood of healing
the bridges from death to life
in the chaos I ran
to the bedside of my childhood friend
Patrick- now a fireman
blown to near bits in the explosion
Time to break all rules of destiny
interrupting Grim Reaper's call sheet for the day
I sat next to him as his one remaining eye opened
pierced my fierce soul in its pain
"Aren't you dead?"
"No and yes?"
"Am I dead?"
"No and maybe.."
There was no time for more explanation
just
"I'm going to replace your arm with my arm"
My hand will become your hand, understand?"
"No---"
"You'll have to trust me, do you?"
"Yes"
And with that I tore my arm from its roots
its electric branches sparking as angry lightning bugs
He watched jaw dropped as I attached my arm to his lifeless hollow
shoulder cave
I took my Coracle and aimed it at the bloody opening like a mouth of reaching
A beam of lightning seared the skin to skin
my skin to his skin
in a circle of life into death and back to life
when I was done I watched and waited
for my former hand to find its grip
finally a twitch and fingertips searching for its direction
and we sat hand in hand
with the pulse of the world between us

In the hospital filled with broken bodies
the explosion left half of Lataham
in beds and hallways bloody and dying
I had to do something--
Could my limbs be donated?
Teri ran up to me
"Jay needs a heart transplant - shrapnel tore through it"
"I'll give him mine"
"But you don't share DNA -- you don't have the same blood type"
"I might - when I collected scattered limbs in the graveyard
to rebuild myself
I must have hundreds of bits and pieces of this town's DNA inside me"
My sister as usual looked at me like I was crazy
so I knew I was about to make her head explode
my favorite thing as a kid
So we rushed to Jay's room
My Kindergarten crush who punched Patrick Daly when he tried to kiss me
in front of the cubbyholes
I looked at Jay's torn up face
He started to cry
and so did I
my electric tears fell like sparks
"Jay, I'm giving you my heart the way I already did when we were five"
He stared at me a moment
"Lucy?"
"Yes, it's me, I still have the mood ring you gave me when you proposed"
He started laughing and crying at once
so did I
It was a parody of death - tragedy and comedy and love
all the best and worst heaven and hell tornadoed together
spinning
No time to waste
Teri wheeled in a gurney and I laid down
Teri brought the family cardiologist - Dr. Morton
He took his scalpel and went to work
carving out my heart for my childhood love
and my undeath was suddenly worthwhile
as I felt the blade harvesting my underused heart
transplanting it into Jay's chest
right where it belonged

BY HEMMINGPLAY -FIREFLIES

I came from a place where men were reasonable and tall,
Where people knew me by who my grandfather was, and his,
Where farmers didn’t plant trees by their houses,
Either because of some vestige of the days when you
Needed to see the Indians coming,
Or, more likely, you needed to see at a glance from any
Window how the corn was growing, the soybeans,
Whether the needed rainclouds were gathering in the west, yet;
Where cemeteries had outlived everyone who cared and the raspberry bushes
And groundhogs had taken over;
Where being a child meant living outdoors, year-’round.
Where you waved at a passing car, not because you knew who it was but
Just in case they knew your parents:
You didn’t want to hear about being rude at church on Sunday.

I came from a place where my nearest playmate was a mile away,
From a place where going to my cousin’s meant
Pumping hard on my bike, the old fat-tired-hand-me-down from my brother,
That had one gear: my legs…
And popping the tar bubbles on the road on hot summer days with the tires,
Smelling the fumes and feeling the sucking of the oil from Arabia;
Watching the big grasshoppers and flies whiz by, the birds calling from the trees,
Watching my dog chase another rabbit. Sometimes she caught one,
But mostly not: she just loved the chase.

I came from a place infused and overwhelmed with the land, of deep roots;
Where uncles and aunts would come for summer dinners after the milking,
And sit outside after dark in our yard talking;
My cousins and I would race through the darkness, making up games
Hiding in the bushes and the darkness on the edge of safety, screeching when found
And thrilling to the freedom to roam, to be ourselves, to be children;
In awe when the fields and grass would
Erupt in a billion fireflies, and we would put dozens in quart canning jars
And study the mating calls of yellow-green magical light.

I came from a place, a very common place, that had an order
Of season and harvest, planting and animals, birth, death, renewal;
Of learning about sex very early, and stewardship, and death;

Of late nights wading through snowdrifts to the barn in February’s lambing season,
Fields draped deeply asleep in white under hard, cold moonlight and wicked winds;
Of helping with the births—which only seemed to come in bitterest cold— cleaning newborn lambs off with burlap sacks
Holding them under heat lamps until their mothers licked them clean,
Made sure they found the teat and began to nurse, coats still steaming, tails wiggling.

I came from a place that has slowly died since then,
And I feel the ache of the loss of all that gave me my sense of who I was,
Where farms are now owned by Arab sheiks and giga-farms inhaled three or four of the ones I once knew;
Where the invisible glue that once made communities evaporated from
Neglect and globalism and meth and, now, heroin,
Where people stay inside and hide from themselves,
Surfing the web for porn, and never once see the
Fireflies rising up in the June nights, calling children to the old mystery but with fewer there to answer.

PEPERICO

passion

Waves of destruction strip me of my identity,
Until I am nothing but another faceless mask: a blank expression.
Indifference in the form of passion;
A passion that was lit in me by the hands of destruction. 
All I have left of myself is this kaleidoscopic fleck of passion. 
So let destruction consume me, so that I may keep this fragment of myself:
A pin prick of light, born and fuelled by my own darkness.
So do not save me from myself, I’m right where I want to be.

god said

and then god said let there be light
taking out his cigarette and inhaling

From Grave to Flight

FROM GRAVE TO FLIGHT

PRELUDE TO REBELECTRIC ZOMBIE

written by: MZ CLARKE

@zoeandme

I.   UNDER A PSYCHOTIC MOON

He was a cage in search of a bird to capture
and pull all of its feathers off one by one
to shrieks of a death song I would sing out of tune
his eyes were hornet nests buzzing with the rampant pestilence of death
his mind was a loaded revolver that needed to be emptied and refilled eternally
He showed me his handiwork
Using a magnifying glass to burn ants to embers when he was three
then throw them into my eyes burning my vision
a game of war in the living room he chased me around and around
until I was dizzy and panting, a worn ragdoll drained of breath
he took his sticky hands and noosed them around my neck
squeezing the life pulp out of me
my mother happened to look out of the kitchen from her daily grizzle and grime
and rushed to unclench his hands but not his mind from my throat
She looked at him as a ghost of some child she would never claim to have born
there was no scolding, only a few muttered words and novenas later
terror beating her chest hands trembling with rosary beads that never saved her and they would never save me
finally one night years later under a psychotic moon
he slipped into my room
bed empty he knew
I was under the bed with monsters since it was safer than being visible anywhere in this house
he dragged me by the hair in some frenzy of revenge I could never have conceived
and raised an axe to my chest and sliced me in half
eardrums of hell broke with the sound of my screams and his laughter
for every day after
that's how it is with family sometimes
he was my brother, John, four years older and stronger than evil itself
and by this time my parents were dead in a tragic car accident
as I watched my soul rise from the tidal waves of blood crashing onto the shores of flesh islands
drowning in my life's ink
I wondered - where do we go from here?
Looking down through clotted clouds another question seared through the afterglow of death
Could I somehow be resurrected on the wings of the audacity of virtue?

II.   MOONBIRD

I was not killed softly but as a bird killed for sport
As my soul watched above in sorrow's mist and moonglow
My body quivered in pieces clumped together
wrapped hastily in my blanket by him
Life's priceless gown disintegrated with every breath I no longer took
I was easy to lift as I lived as a wren wanting to grow up to be an eagle
He rushed me as a spoiling package of meat to the back shed
Lifting the floorboards and quickly grabbing a shovel
digging a shallow grave for me and dumping my body growing colder by the minute
covering me with dirt filled with worms and maggots that were ready to feast on my remains
He paced and paced over that freshly graved spot
until he could hear my song
which did not die in physical death
I had simply metamorphized from sunbird to an electric moonbird
a spirit too bright illuminating the night and pierced his cruel heart instead

III.   CORPSE CHORUS

As I lay dead in my shallow grave
my brother's crushing weight
stomping across my body
back and forth as a pendulum pacing across Death
His eardrums winced from the unholy song
my telltale heart sang then screamed
as if this was a nightmare that could be undreamed
my soul's gut feeling my life could resurrect
if there was one shred of humanity my spirit song might intersect

in response to my deafening pleas
In feverish sweat he finally fell to his knees
digging with bare hands until he reached my blood-soaked face
his eyes wild as if just back from outer space

IV.   HOUSE OF BLACK-EYED SOULS

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" my brother John ranted
pacing over my shallow grave
but my raven song grew stronger and louder as he raged
my telltale heart shook the earth
Caged in life
no longer willing to be caged in Death
I must defy its bones somehow

Of course I understood the source
of his homicidal tendencies
what other way could we purge the pain
from the purity of my helpless mother
and the poison of my father's blood-dipped fists
we were the birthright of black-eyed souls
my brother turned his raged outward
(currently at me)
and I turned my rage inward
as suicidal wage
Did I need to die to learn how to live
and now what time what gold would I not give
to have another chance in any form
Dear God, could I walk back somehow to that robbed corner of life
where I once believed that love would conquer all evil
even the evil that lurked in this haunted house
of ghosts hosting murdering minds and stomped out hearts
as so many flames of fury and faith
dying in the despair of a life unlived
the undanced Dance
I would not waste that precious second chance

V.   TAPESTRY OF HEARTS

Without a sustainable power source I was going nowhere
I took the wires I had implanted up my arms down to my wrists and plugged them
into the electrical socket
ZAP! I flew across the room
then broke into puzzle box pieces
spilling liquid and clotted prisms of blood and flesh
my own heart had been axed in half
so I needed a replacement and perhaps a few spare chunks
an anger screaming inside me suddenly escaped
I wailed and howled for hours until the thumping from the walls
became cries and a steady drumbeat answering a prayer
"take mine"
"you can borrow mine"
"I was a marathon runner - take mine"

I felt the wall as the heat of whatever was buried behind these walls swelled into the room
the sound of digging and clawing growing louder and louder
a skeleton's hand tore through the wall holding his or her decaying heart
"take it, use it, then get us out of here"

I took the heart with its blackened blood bits and strands of arteries and veins twisting as if angry snakes

"Who are you?"

"Your Uncle Tuccie buried us in here instead of in the cemetery.  Help us please!"

I took a steak knife and opened my chest, my ribs were still broken
and fused this foreign heart with the remaining bits of my own

"my lost soul will enter you as well" the voice whispered held in space

a beam of light swirled into my chest to rest

I decided to take apart a lithium battery from my laptop computer and hooked it up to my new
and old heart parts and waited

I felt a sudden surge of energy but it wasn't enough to move more than a few feet

I needed an extra jolt so I jammed both sets of my wrist wires into the electrical socket

Smoke and fire bolted me flipping me into the air

I flew straight up to the ceiling and bashed my head but that wasn't going to stop me now

I could fly
As both Creator and Monster how do I define
this dark bliss with instruments divine
what other otherworldly worlds beyond gravity could I defy?
Love may be a stranger beyond my possession

yet Spirit as outstretched raven wing may be my new obsession

VI.   PATCHWORK BRAIN

My brain was bashed in
I was already a patchwork girl with pieces of hearts
from the ghosts who lived in the walls
but my heart was swimming with electricity
Was I more than a lively cadaver, a Do-It-Yourself Frankenstein, a zombie?

Now Gregorian chants of souls sang
as I held my bleeding head and cracked skull
a shucked oyster or pearl - how would l know
I simply cried "I need to repair the rest of my brain"
the wall thumped and beated like the heart of the room alive
and the voices chanted through in song and plea

"Take my brain - I was a teacher"
"Take my brain - I was an electrical engineer"
"Take mine - to heal your heart - I'm a cardiologist"
"Mine will help you in your future mission - I'm a neurosurgeon"
"Mine will give you eternal strength and comfort - when no human or creature can - I'm a poet"

I wept dizzy and mortified these souls were not at rest
and decided to give all these bold brains a brand new test

hands tore through centuries to reach me through the walls
hands holding their brains in amber preserved
they all deserved to live on
I bowed in prayer accepting their gifts
I instantly knew how to tapestry these brains with electrical wire
weaving them into mine
I sewed as expertly as a surgeon one melding with the next
My eyes turned inward in hyper vision saw all of their sunrises and sunsets
I thrilled in all their loves and  joys and mourned all of their regrets
I had their thoughts chanting in my skull as eternity's music's ultimate reward
Prepared as a warrior of the best electrified brains and hearts as my lightning Sword

Series Navigation

I AM ANGER

I Am Anger

written by: Rando Mithlo

@Rodhnoe

"Damn this heat!" I said loud enough to echo off the trees. Not that anyone was around to hear me, but I did feel better saying it.

I'm not one to complain much about good weather since the winters around here are brutal, but I'd had a hard time keeping the sweat out of my eyes. I dabbed them with the bottom of my t-shirt and continued searching.

I got a hit of 78 on my metal detector, that indicated silver according to its digital display, but, I soon found the object I had pulled from the ground was nothing but a mason jar lid with enough jagged glass attached to cut my hand had I not worn my gloves. I hate these misreads.

I got up from my knees and tossed the lid into a thicket a few feet away. When I picked up the detector, I inadvertently swung it back over the hole and heard more beeps in my headphones. I figured it more scrap glass and lids.

I checked it anyway.

I then heard some branches crack in the distance, Thinking it to be an animal, I look up and a blur of a figure appeared to loom in the distance. I couldn't tell if it was a human, a deer, or what. It hid unmoving in the mix of trees and weeds. Who'd be out here on a Sunday afternoon, besides a weirdo like myself looking for a nonexistent motherlode?

I stood up from my crouch and tried to get a better look. I then see nothing. Paradolia maybe?
It wasn't the first time I've seen things in the woods that were my imagination. This stretch of forest is about as rural as it gets here in Sullivan County, and a guy could become unnerved at this kind of thing. The only reason I even thought to hunt out here is that I heard a story that this area used to be a popular car racing track called 'The Jungle' back in the 1940s. I joked that If someone is out here they followed me, no doubt to rob me of my six wheat pennies that I found earlier.
It did occur to me that maybe I should carry a weapon of some kind to ward off any potential trouble, just in case. There are stranger things that happen every day.

I bent back over the hole and used my spade to turn up more earth and soon the bottom half of that mason jar came up. it was full of dirt and coins. I couldn't believe it. I dumped it on a nearby tree stump. Several turn-of-the-century silver dollars tumbled out, also silver quarters and to my amazed eyes, a handful of Indian Head ten dollar gold coins. I must have found a depression era stash! I wanted to dance! In two years of hunting, I haven't found anything of this value. The odd silver dollar and the occasional gold ring, but with this score, I'm in awe. This stash is enough to pay off my truck if I wanted to sell the coins online. I wanted to call Amy and tell her the good news, but cell reception out here is dubious. She'll be so excited, and maybe it'll ease the tension between us about our money woes. The fight we had this morning was still rattling around in my head. She was pressuring me once more to move somewhere where the jobs are better, it's a constant point of contention with us. Our old house is in need of repairs but, we own two acres of land in the finest place in the Midwest, it was the gift my grandparents left to me, how can I walk away from that?

I headed back down the trail and to my truck. When opening the door, I then wondered, had this been only one of many caches buried out there? I put the valuable coins under the driver's seat and locked the truck door.

I turned back feeling stoked. Did I miss anything? Shit, this could be the lottery win I've been playing for every week!

At that point, a quote I remembered came to me, something like 'the only sure thing about luck is that it'll change.' Well, I have to at least know for sure, and I'll bet there's a saying out there for that too.
My euphoria was interrupted when I saw it again. Movements several yards to the right. it's the same thing as earlier. This time I'm sure I saw something, it could've been a man in a brown shirt. Whoever it is they are damn good at staying just in the corner of my sight. Or maybe it's just a leprechaun waiting to snatch my gold when I'm not paying it any attention. Feeling uneasy, I started to rummage around for a blunt walking stick, for extra protection, my spade might not be enough. I didn't see him or it when I looked back up. Damn...It's like I anticipated a struggle over my treasure because serendipity doesn't come without a price. I had to laugh at myself, now I was making up shit. I walked the several yards back over to the honey hole and detected over the same area.

I was startled by a crow that cawed close by me, I hate that when my ears are under headphones. I felt a little paranoid. The wind rattled every leaf in earshot, I looked around, but see only the vast newer growth forest and this wide sunlit clearing. I searched for about 15 more minutes and had all but given up, but then got a hit at the edge of a hillside. This one had multiple signals with the needle jumping all around. I plunged my spade into the loose soil.

Something cracked in there, and I punched a deep hole nearly losing grip of my spade inside. A gush of musty air released from within. For God's sake, what is this? I pulled my spade out and peered inside using a mini flashlight I always carry. The darkness is almost impenetrable but I do see outlines of what looks like wooden crates in a dirt-floored room. it was some kinda fruit cellar, like our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Fisk used to have detached from their farmhouse.
I had a flashback as a kid of how creepy it was in that cellar. I used to help out the elderly couple when visiting, but would be terrified when asked by Mrs. Fisk to retrieve jars of peach preserves from down there. I feared to stick my hand in the cloud of spider webs thinking my fingers would get gnawed off by a tarantula!

My hands were shaking like I was 10 again, but the adult in me was too curious to let this go, I wanted to go in. I rammed the spade down around the hole. I heard more of the rotting wood crack, and dust flew around me like the gnats I'd been swatting at all day. Soon there was a good size hole big enough to get a look inside. I stepped back and looked down into it where the sunlight penetrated the room. I looked for a way to somehow lower myself down into it. Then I heard a voice behind me.

"Well done Hinton, you dug your own grave."

I turned around shocked. it was a Sullivan County Sheriff deputy, whom I recognized as Len Gudyer.

I said "Man, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing, following me?"

He looked at me with dead eyes, he drew his gun and pointed at me. Worry started to stir inside. "Why are you doing this, I'm I under arrest or something." My first thought was I had trespassed out here, but I'm pretty sure it's public lands.

He motioned with his gun "Shut up and get in there" It hit me then, this was personal.
I couldn't fathom what I'd done so wrong.
I tried to lower myself down using the spade laid across the edges of the hole, but my hand slipped and I fell about 3 foot, landing on my ass. The spade fell onIy inches from goring me. I quickly got back to my feet.

Len looks down through the opening and pointed his gun at me, his face was shrouded in a shadow backlit by sunlight.
I asked him "Why are you doing this to me, what did I ever do to you?"

I was sweating profusely and my whole body shuddered.

He said, "I wanted only one thing in this life and you have it."

I told him "You can have the money, Len, I don't care, just don't shoot me over it!"

He said "You're such an ass! you don't deserve a woman like her, you never have! You piss away your life chasing some treasure, or other petty pursuits. Not caring about her...I watch you, I know!"

"This is about Amy?" I ask.

"Of course it is, you prick! I would've killed to be with her in high school, then she married your lame ass afterward. Since then, have you done anything but make her feel lonely for the past twenty years? I saw it in her eyes. I would never have let her feel that way!"

I couldn't believe my ears, I was quick with my response.

"You're wrong about that. We've been arguing lately and I'm a bad arguer, so I walk away from it. That doesn't mean I don't love her..."

He interrupted me, "That's bullshit!"

I continued "No, man, she means everything to me."

He squinted at that. I told him, "Look, Len...she's not the same person she was in high school, you wouldn't even know!"

I paused, he continued to point the gun and his eyes appeared to get even darker.

I said, "C'mon man, I know how nostalgia can be. We all go through it, that's what your feeling, I know it. I always wish to have those old days back again too, so I could go to college and give Amy a better life, but things happen that get in the way of that!" I pleaded with him, his stern face seemed chiseled in stone. he muttered, "You've gotten in my way!"

I then felt an even more terrible thought well up inside, I wondered then if Len was a not merely stalking us, but was a lover of Amy's, and she had put him up to this. I hoped I was wrong, I love her dearly. For the last few years, I couldn't be sure she feels the same for me. She has had distant eyes, but pride stops me from addressing the issues we have. I'm only trying to avoid fights, but maybe it's because I don't want to hear her words, or what's between them.
Discussions need to be had with cool heads, if that is even possible with us.
I questioned myself hard. Maybe he was right, maybe I've become careless with her. I am a lame ass...I felt lower than the hole I stood in. But, I knew If I died right that minute, I'd only worry about her. This I knew was true!

He crouched there looking down at me, his unblinking stare was eerie. His hand flinched.
I shouted, "Go ahead Len, do what you came here to do!" I urged further, "Do it!!" I felt drained.

He spoke in a distant tone, "Don't you even read the news?" He stares out at something to his left and lowered the gun to swing between his knees.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The silo explosion...in Hollandburg." He replied.

I knew about the explosion, but I missed the connection to the situation at hand, did he want to finish me and make it look like an accident?

"I don't understand ?" I said, wiping my sweat soaked face with an equally sweaty arm. He shook his head, his face contorted in a snarl.

"I'm her anger, you're her guilt!"
He said in a voice deeper than normal.
I must have been owl eyed.
Len's face just kept contorting, it stretched so unnaturally to the point of madness, as if his skin would snap off of his skull like a rubber mask. I couldn't bear to look at that nightmarish stare, and I averted my eyes.
I heard an awful wet gurgling and jumped, instinctively looking up at something I'm sure I didn't want to see. Len's face was a blur, quickly moving out of my line of sight. I heard no steps crunching on dirt, just a gentle gust of warm wind. I stood there waiting to be shot like a fish in a barrel.

After several minutes I sat on a crate, thinking of Amy and me on our honeymoon in Niagara Falls, in particular about the moment of a photo taken of us by an obliging passerby. Her and I in bright blue ponchos, laughing and wet from the Fall's mist. The photo sat framed on our mantle until about a year ago. I never thought enough to ask her why it was no longer there.

I guessed an hour had passed. I was weak from the heat, but managed to move the wooden crates on top of one another and struggled mightily to pull myself up and out of the cellar. I grabbed the metal detector and paused for an extended moment, observing the dried mud on its handle. I had been looking for the wrong things for a long time.
I tossed it down into the hole.

I walked back to my truck and sat on the hot vinyl seat feeling a chill.
I gazed into the grove of trees to my left, trying to comprehend what happened back there.
I wondered if I could fix any of this.
I didn't know how far Amy was out of reach.
I do know there was a deputy that died with the two other people in that blast at the grain silo, but hadn't paid much attention to the names of the victims. I hadn't been paying attention to much of anything that mattered.