[GUNFIRE OVER PHONE]
I sit in my chair, the old wood groans to match the creaking of my own tired body. Wrinkles in my skin, hair thinning and grey, my mind is still sharp, even if the rest of me has long since forgotten it’s old enthusiasm.
Pictures flash across my mind, fleeting ghost of a time forgotten by so many, people dead and gone still breathing in my head. My eyes, once privy to a thousand stories, like weakened and milky with cataracts.
My ears, once the keepers of a thousand songs, now lie tired, resting, the whispering voices of those long dead failing to rouse them into activity. My lips, which have spoken both praise and scorn, love and hate in equal measure, are cracked and dry. I run my old grey tongue over them, drowning in my own memories, and cast my gaze over the rickety wooden porch and onto the crashing waves of the ocean, which has been there before I was born and will be there long after I have gone.
A young voice, shrill in it’s youthful naivety, pierces my thoughts like a bullet. “Grandma” they say, tugging on my sleeve, filled with the curiosity that all children have before life grounds it out of them, “Grandma, do you have any stories like the ones our teacher told us about? Sad ones, from when you were little?”
They do not know the true nature of what they ask, and I will not fault them. Everyone must learn. good and bad, the nature of our world. I clear my throat, each breath I cough out part of an unknown but expected number I will take before my last. I look back towards the children, sitting on the floor, eager to hear the tales someone my age can tell.
"Alright" I say, knowing this story, while exciting, is not one with a happy ending. "Come closer now, and Grandma will tell you about something she was a part of when she was very very young, just a little older than you."
One more breath to bring back the memories. My body may be almost gone, but my mind is still as clear as the day it happened.
"Let me tell a lesson I learned young children. Let me tell you how I know, betrayal tastes of Tunnel Snake."
I’m waiting in line at Walmart and I watched a child pick a penny up off the floor and eat it these people are savages I feel like I’m in the wild
i’m so tire di’m so tired my body isn’tmine this isn’t me i’m not here