Part 1 Superstition
Part 2 Names for Blades
– SIN-EATER –
The dirt and the leaves on the trail showed no signs of disturbance. It smelled of balmy firs and two-day-old game trails. The patches of grass and plants stood straight. The path we took was virginal. No wind, no movements, no sounds, besides Frank’s and mine. I almost expected the cicadas to sing, but the forest remained silent. The day lost its fierce heat and power. Even the fir trees froze in the semitransparent shadow of ominous size, stretching above the canopy. It was something heavy and dangerous. Blue, violet, and brown saturated in the shadows but I was the only one to recognize. Light withered faster than I had anticipated. Continue reading “DEVIL’S PEAK (3)”
I fell asleep in front of the TV
Stuck in a nightmare, pain janked me free
It reached in my chest ‘n tore at my heart
My life, my end? I couldn’t tell them apart
On screen the white noise blinked,
Pulsed’n watched. Who’d care if I went extinct?
“I do,” said the noise.
Continue reading “white noise”
Today’s destination is a puddle jump away from Camara do Lobos’ port. Somebody important used to be on holiday here, probably drinking poncha, or something stronger, practicing watercolor painting and smoking big cigars. Yes, Winston Churchill liked to sit and stare at the sea.
The island is a huge volcano, so the fishermen don’t have to go far, there is a drop to the ocean floor in the vicinity. The port is tiny, but bustling with boats on shore leave, tourists, villagers playing cards, old women going to or returning from grocery shopping. The air is saturated with the laughter of seagulls, churchbells and low chatter from the waves lapping at the black stones on the shore.
Continue reading “Going Hemingway with a Line, the Atlantic Ocean, and Heartache (2)”