Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Can You Dig It?

by Colleen Foley

Seth would wake in the car, for all the good it would do him. I’d called Jimmy. He’d be safe.

I followed a single vine now. I’d had to remove my shirt. It ran straight to the middle of my chest, a round, black, pulsing thing. No oddity there, eh? It becoming a tumor?

I felt her, somewhere ahead as I ran past small mounds. A burial ground.

The pain stopped. I wanted to dig at my chest, unearth the thing inside. I dug earth and rotted leaves instead, like a hoard of rabid gophers.

Then I fell to her.


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