You See

I was brought up in a cult. The religion had something to do with blood and lambs. I was in love with Sue Ellen. In the back of the pickup truck with my hair going wild. Dark summer days when we’d hide in the woods. Do voices. Feel like music was being played in the air and only we could hear it. Being too nervous to eat your dinner at the table. Unwavering, watery tension filling up the kitchen. The one light overhead that shed light on nothing. No neighbor would come. Tried hiding my underwear under the bed. Pushed all my books into the closet. Cried because it felt like the only thing I could control. Could turn it off and on, like a light. God, or what, help me. One thunderstormed night I shriveled up in bed and wouldn’t dare look at the window looking at me. You see. All my life felt like eyes looking in from a dark night at me. I’m with  you, in your cities, in your dreams, I mourn for something just like you. Do you hear me? I haven’t said a word.

Shane Kowalski lives in Pennsylvania. His book of very short fiction, Small Moods, is forthcoming from Future Tense Books. He works for the United States Postal Service.
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