The Silent History: a Novel
“Seasons. Years, maybe. I remember lying in a freezing downpour knowing I’d die if I closed my eyes, which I did, which I always did once the arc lights of the lab parking lot winked out until morning, and their afterimage still pulsed on my eyelids and I prayed for that false light to turn into a tunnel, a sun door, star map, utter night. I wanted out. I wanted to dry up and flake into sediment and blow away. Sometimes I saw nature’s real intent in far-off screams and bloated seagulls who perch...ed on the eaves closest to me until I fell asleep and glided down to peck at my feet and legs. Testing my readiness. I awoke to the heat of my own breathing, covered in a reeking blue tarp. Rain continued to fall. Somewhere a car alarm cycled through amplified squeals and shrieks like an assortment of murders. Spring came. The grass beneath the air-conditioner window unit near me grew faster than the other grass.
A man with a wheelbarrow came and told me to close my eyes and he doused me in dish soap and sprayed me off with a hose.MoreLess
A man with a wheelbarrow came and told me to close my eyes and he doused me in dish soap and sprayed me off with a hose.MoreLess
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