Fiction

Night Station 03

Bulletproof glass, seediness, and the crawl of the Cthulu.

Interstate Scene 14: “He thought it was a Civil War ghost,” she said. “But I didn’t start believing in ghosts until a few weeks ago.”

Interstate Scene 13: A jumbotron flashed above an overpass, and I held my breath.

Interstate Scene 12: Munching a cold french fry, I counted the logos flying around my head.

Interstate Scene 11: Strange how the noise in my head can only be soothed by more noise.

Interstate Scene 10: They say evolution occurs most rapidly in body parts that attract lovers and frighten rivals.

Interstate Scene 9: Maps of the Arctic give me vertigo. All that blank bright land feels like leaping off a rooftop.

Interstate Scene 8: I scroll down the dial in search of the midnight call-in shows, those carrier waves of national rumor and patchwork theory.

Interstate Scene 7: Headlights and taillights shimmered, their drivers hopped up on coffee and talk radio.

Interstate Scene 6: It was a run-down joint where time stood still and probably slid backward.

Interstate Scene 5: The desert’s silence was hell on my tinnitus.

Interstate Scene 4: Lose enough faith, and you might forget how to live.