A Visit

Author’s Note: My brother recently unearthed a trove of stuff I wrote in high school. I thought it would amuse you to share the worst of it. Stay tuned for a few more throughout the week.

Welcome to my woeful world, where misery mingles with the tears of despair in harmonious coexistence. Welcome to my own solitary niche where grief and turmoil brew around every street corner.

The sky is tinted with a strange, unreal red hue. No shadows are cast by the eerie sun; all the world seems bathed in darkness. Trees line the sidewalks, gnarled and twisted. Behind them, hidden from the public eye, rest the houses in which the unhappy inhabitants live. The houses vary only in the degree of blackness enveloping them. Each house has two bedrooms and a bath. There is no family room or den. Citizens long ago gave up socialization. In front of each desolate abode is a small yard. The grass is unkempt and dry, always brown, with the stench of death hovering above like a vulture circling its prey. Weeds cling desperately to life, climbing the walls like a sinister serpent crushing the life from its victim.

A man emerges from his home, wearing a somber mix of anxiety and grudging acceptance. His attire matches his disposition, paralleling his life of longing and hopelessness. He walks along a dusty road seldom traveled by others. This, the road not taken, is always avoided by man. One thing is certain as his silhouette fades from view: he will never again return here, where the sun never sets but has never truly risen. Welcome to my town, where angels of no mercy feed constantly on the innocent masses.

1996