When we made it back from the woods, doors locked, triple bolted behind us, gray afternoon streaming in through the cracks, Milo handed me every implement, instructing what to do with each one. It was IMPORTANT, he said, and made it clear I needed to remember ALL OF THEM. But a single fleck of blood splatter stuck to his cheek kept insisting, begging for attention and as he spoke, the basement walls of his childhood home absorbing our secret, all I could think was whether or not that thing was still out there.

Waiting to wander my mind, waiting in line.

###

in print:

Amazon.com

or for fucking free in digital

Smashwords.com

so long and thanks for all the pish.