▇▇ SOMEONE GIVES HIM
A NUMBER TO CALL.
they told him, you are not saved. call this
number and you will hear a series of sounds.
you will know where you belong. he will
answer. pray.
he hadn't known who the person was, if they're
still in town, but they had the exact same look at
the priest when he'd look down from his window,
down at the people. all-knowing. (what did he
know about him? does he know of his fate?)
he calls one night. the night where the bugs won't
leave him alone and the deer won't stop knocking on
his doors. maybe it's one of the believers in The End
or the believers in the eternal salvation, boat of the
dreams. but even that is more terrifying than three-
eyed deer.
they answer, but it's only a series of sounds.
a cacophony of static.
crackle.
high-pitched screeching.
he ends the call and lives with the fact that he will
never be saved.
▇▇ HE TRIES TO LEAVE TOWN
a total of five times. maybe it had been more
but his memory is failing him.
the first time he tries, he hits something. he
doesn't know what because whatever remains
of it, was gone. no blood. only a dent on the
hood of his car. the size of a human, maybe.
the second time, the roads disappear. of course,
the roads can't just do that, but they did. the
town line was gone. it seemed hopeless so he
turned around.
the third, the waitress at the diner poisons his tea.
it tasted like gasoline (but how did he know the
taste of that?). she drawled to him with a heavy
accent, "darling, close your eyes" and he woke up
in his room with a dull ache in his chest.
the fourth, the town line keeps getting farther
and the void can no longer be filled again. he
sees the same trees the same cracks on the road
and a person with a lifeless gaze, a cup in their
shaking hands.
and just barely, johnny can hear them say,
they're coming.
the fifth was when he left his home and that same
person with the cup held a knife to his throat, telling
him that he was a sin, a dirty plate that could never
be cleaned, a mistake made by permanent marker. a
sin. a sin. he was not cleansed.
he could never reach the boat of paradise now.
his wings are clipped and ashen.
▇▇ HE HEARS SOMETHING
outside on his porch. it isn't even his. the
house doesn't belong to him. he had
only woken up in it.
the noise. the noise was back. it sounds
like a wolf. there are no wolves in town.
he grabs his shotgun off the wall and
aims it at his front door. it's here.
the trigger feels so familiar.