Short Story: New Rural Madness
A new short, short story…
Sometimes the darkness hits hard, like dirt, like teeth. Like the road. A calmness evaporates, as the salt of the blood kicks in. And then a new dizziness, the splitting headache, that becomes literal, is not your problem — well, would depend how you look at it. But from you can tell, it’s the walls that will carry the stories. Their improvised new paint job done in a rush, byproduct, not pre-planned. There is a new rural madness, but the cows will make the same sounds to fill lonely fields tomorrow. And the rooster will set it all off once again. Though it’ll take longer for the animals to get their feed tomorrow. More darkness hitting hard. Then fresh teeth marks for the road. And the magpie better not say what it thought it saw.
