death

My Little Sister Was Afraid of the Dark 

My Little Sister Was Afraid of the Dark 

When my little sister disappeared in the woods, I knew it was my fault. When her body was found, my grief was complicated by a mix of guilt and shame. A deep sadness that didn’t even allow me to cry. And I knew that’s why she was haunting me. I deserved it. I would wake in the night and see her there, huddled beside me on the bed. “I’m scared Sarah. It’s so dark.” Just long enough for me to see her tear-stained face shining in the night light I had started using. Then she was gone. She was only five, and she would be five forever. 

God's Eyes

God's Eyes

I met Jenny when I was working in the long-term psych ward, one of the many jobs I tried and then left. She was a small woman, 30 years old, with matted hair and a vacant expression. Of course, this was made even more vacant by her lack of eyes, and the puckered holes where they used to reside. Even without eyes she seemed to constantly be searching for something.

The Dump

The Dump

I pitched a quick look over my shoulder. I was almost at the tree line and the horses were still at the lower fence. Growing up around horses, I was not normally afraid of them, but when I walked through the pasture, I always had a feeling they would run toward me, trampling me in their haste. It was the wide open that made me feel this way. They were really very huge animals.

Their Eyes Couldn't Stop Looking

Their Eyes Couldn't Stop Looking

When I was small, no one would look at me for long. Their eyes would flick up, then flit away like a startled bird. I didn’t realize until I was about 6 that people found my looks… disturbing. There was a mixture of pity and revulsion teetering on a beam of required social behavior. Except for my Mother. She never shied away from looking. Her smile made me feel beautiful. She touched me as well, which other people seemed afraid to do. Of course, children were altogether different. They not only looked, they stared, mouths agape. They didn’t just touch, they poked and prodded… and sometimes chased.

Darkling Days

Darkling Days

Some blamed it on the beetles, and the name stuck. It was an event they could point to and remember, instead of blaming themselves. Instead of blaming the quickening slide past the point of no return, to the end of everything. Well, not everything. The end of the age of humans. Humanity died long ago, the rest of us just waited for the inevitable.

Everything was already fucked before the beetles. We took down the climate, and so many species we couldn’t even keep track anymore. We made new ones, to help eat the plastic, clean the earth, eat the earth-cleaners, but we didn’t expect the side effects. We turned a blind eye to the warnings, the warming, the sea water. So here we were now, the darkling days. The next part of the end.