I was in the break room munching my way through a kale and cranberry salad. Several of my coworkers sat at the lunch table. Mostly I keep to myself because I much prefer being left alone than being drawn into the droll of their banal conversation.
“Did anyone notice that Carl’s been missing?” Karen asked the room.
Everyone told me: Don’t meet dates online. I’d fucked every eligible man on this coast before finally settling down. Before I met my man, my sexlife was boring as shit. I’m devoted now. No secrets. My husband knows my past, so ‘come for me,’ haters! We’re celebrating 2 years!
Christmas is my favorite time of year. It’s a great time to reflect about how fortunate you are. If you’re thoughtful enough you can spread some joy to others. I didn’t know how to help bring Eric and Sandra joy this year, but as things turned out I don’t think they needed my help after all. They used to live across the street and we were once close. That of course all changed in July.
I would like to start by saying, there are a lot of bad people in the world, but I am certainly not in their company. I am a good person. I recycle, I pay my taxes and I donate to the LGBTQ Youth shelter downtown.
I was 13 and Sarah was 10.
The dark things arrived in the room where we sat, encircled in our protective salt. This was intended for we had summoned them to us in the magic of after-midnight. Silence and black had reigned in the gloomy dark of the drafty attic until we had broken it apart with our dark chanting. The chanting now complete, the silence was broken as the house rumbled to life.
As I walked, about two blocks up I saw him…the boy. I decided then to abruptly change direction, having heard from others that when coming across this particular child, it was advisable to give him a wide berth. He was climbing out of the sewers. It was abnormal for anywhere else, but par for the course in our little village.
I wonder what Nathan is doing right now.
Nathan Wallows is my favorite singer. His voice is like a tormented angel pulled down to suffer in a tar pit. Haunted. He was fated to be trapped forever in my sticky black heart. Each song he sang resonated chords within me. It would be hard to convince me that each song he wrote and sang wasn’t written just so I could understand him better. That’s how much his body of work spoke to me.
