You must be certain that as you read this there is no other truth as solid as this slab of granite-like proof.
He left her, bleeding on a grey gravel rough of a path.
Good and dead, he thought. He could jerk away now. He could go on. She’ll not have that baby in her belly, the one from the other. She’ll not be around to see him gloat over the sympathy he’ll receive. Finally still, all that life soaked to mud.
After no stir dusted up around her fall, she dared peek out. The blood was more than the gash and she couldn’t feel it anymore. Her baby kicked. Her heart beat. Nothing was still as he had thought.
She knew the news would reach her love and he’d believe it. He’d set out, too. He’d try to kill back that mourning. And if the one who gave her her first child should find out she still stirred, he’d surely finish it up. Real snake like, he’d finish it and put a new back on. A faster one no doubt. Real snake like.
She’d head out underneath another call, engraved with a new kind of love. Life just got bigger and Josephine multiplied to three on Tuesday night, both wounds healed, both children lovely.
And he was sure she thought no more.
One real heart broken, one false heart light because of one slightly missed bullet.
He never could find her heart, not even with a gun.
Very cool. I look forward to reading more of your stuff.
Posted by: Matt | May 05, 2008 at 11:16 PM