Falling Darkness

Falling Darkness: The

Implode  

One spark. That’s all it needed, he’d said with his white coat starched clean. The gossipy women whispered to each other, “what a shame, such a beautiful girl, too.” As if I was already one of them, as if I was already dead. One spark, he’d said and it could make my mind explode into insanity. And, man, was that spark waiting, growing stronger in its hibernating state.

            It was a growing disease in my hometown. A disease that led you into insanity and there was no predicting how fast or slow it happened, because it just, kind of, happened. Doctors were baffled, scientists were awed. The first one to get it was Old Mrs. Cake. But she was so old; couldn’t it have been some sort of spin off from Alzheimer’s when she bit open her granddaughter’s neck? But then there was Kane a pre-teen with a strong mind and strong teeth. Couldn’t blame that one on Alzheimer’s. He just went flat-fuck crazy. He ripped up his undies and clawed at brick walls as if biting his nails weren’t enough.

            So, after about 25% of the town going crazy, I get diagnosed with it. Whatever it is. One wild thought and a person could be destined to having no thoughts at all. Because this one thought, it ate your other thoughts, swallowed them whole, leaving only other wild thoughts; then, eventually, it swallowed your soul. You became a shell of insane terror leaking onto the bloody streets of my hometown. Just one thought and you exploded or rather, imploded upon yourself, quietly and insanely.

Chapter 1: The Garden Hose

            That’s the problem these days. Stupid, fucking dogs taking a crap in people’s yards. My dog Rufus, a big dumb mop, slept under our Weeping Willow with his big hairy eyes shut. Of course Ms. Lonny Baker was hollering, but she’s always hollering just like Rufus is always taking a crap in her yard. So, of course I’m there with my gloves and a Wal-mart bag, spending my day scooping poop like Armageddon is sitting in Mamma Wilbur’s abandoned rocking chair. Just rocking back and forth. Mamma Wilbur had been the latest nut case. She just got out of her bed one day, stripped naked and took a piss in her neighbor’s flowers. Just like Rufus. Just like fucking dogs. The world goes nuts and there’s dogs pooping in other people’s yards and an aggravated girl scooping up their shit. Sometimes you gotta wonder how the world goes on so normal with stuff like that. Like Rufus couldn’t have had some manners during the last days. I guess he’ll just always be like that then. A dumb fucking dog.

            She was leaning over me, making sure I got every pebble of that poop. “It’s nasty work!” she said, stating the obvious. “Nasty work, indeed!”

            I wiped my forehead with my arm and kept working, ignoring her. I figured maybe she’d walk away or at the least not say anything else. Because I had work to do, I had a big pile of poop to put in a Wal-mart bag. But no, that woman just kept on hollering like I had answered her.

            “Yeah, it’s real nasty, on your hands and knees! I couldn’t fit into that line of work, cleaning dog poo-poo! No siree, I couldn’t make it!”

            Really, I thought laughingly. Who used “poo-poo” anymore? What are we in kindergarten? But I just kept scooping the poop, seeing only one piece left.

            “It’s a sad thing about Mamma Wilbur from across the street, ain’t it?! Just a sad thing!”

            “Yeah, Miss. Now I gotta go, it was nice scoopin’ poop for ya’.” I muttered wading through her bushes to get back to my house, leaving her there with her arms wrapped around herself.