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A SceneThe full moon hangs heavy in the sky, silouetteing building rooves that reach beggingly toward the heavens, pleading for their prayers to be answered. Before the buildings stands a bridge spanning a gorge. The sound of a river echos from the bottom as the water gurgles and dances on the rocks, singing it's quiet melodies to the world.
On either side of the bridge stand two figures, dark in the shadows of the night staring at each other from across the bridge. Neither moves.
A night breeze picks up, wafting through the silent night and carrying the scent of night jasmine through the air. The figure on the townside's hair drifts in the breeze. The waist-length locks lift and drift around her waist and face, masking half of her visage for a moment. She takes a tenetive step forward, wooden sandal making little noise against the wood plant of the bridge.
Yet he doesn't move, the breeze stirs his shoulder-length hair over his face and ears, eyes remaining on the young woman.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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