Friday, 5 March 2010
Septic Sceptic
I didn't mean to startle you. It's just I wanted to tell you about the American flag flying in the wind on a dark night in Apple Valley.
They've never met the visitor before but are very excited to do so, because they no longer want to be frightened by the mystery.
Just to find out what they have to say, I guess.
It's exactly as she pictured you know. The moon hangs like a low light in a 70's Italian bistro over the desolate one storey house in Apple Valley with the swing swinging alone like in all the horror films.
Greetings are made and the presence is open and happy. There was once a powerful man but there is also a warmth to him, and I am sure none of this makes...sense?
He liked to shoot guns.
Father Tom.
The candles lit in the hallway don't really help, blow them out for fuck's sake, don't yelp. He won't talk to the child. But he is safe so she is happy.
No doubt but no validation. This is bullshit.
And the crickets still vibrate and the flag suddenly stops blowing because there is no more wind.
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