I have a creative mind. I like it most of the time.
When I go to bed at night the leash I keep on my dark thoughts slips off and my mind bombards me with torturous thoughts and images. I'm hoping that by releasing them here I can save myself the demented replays later.
Last Night's Crop:
My husband and I are on the beach. We are in our sixties. He gives me a hug and in releasing him, I feel a lump. I know what this means. Do I tell him the cancer is back, or do I ignore it and hope against hope it is something else?
We are on the train to Chicago. I have the window seat, he has the isle. We are talking, laughing, minding our own business. A man approaches, and before he passes us he stabs a knife into my husband's chest. It's a kill shot, his vacant eyes stare at me as I scream.
My sister is 8 months pregnant. I am picking her up from the airport. A pick-up truck full of rednecks does not stop. They run my sister over, the back tire going over her swollen belly. The baby is expelled, trapped in the leg of her pants. I can't see it, but I can see the blood. I can do nothing to save it.
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