Meg Sefton's Blog, page 52

Death

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Abandoned Hospital by Michael Jancek, flickr

There was no time to administer last rites. Spirits wandered hospital corridors. They moaned into the ears of physicians. The moaning was so woeful it penetrated the sleep of the hospital workers at night. Nothing relieved the cries of those who died alone.

Lily

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Paul Furst, engraving, 1721

A bird man watches the lithe lily girls dancing on the graves. Ashes, ashes we all fall down! He fills the beak of his mask with flowers. He points to one of the girls with his claw, indicating whose family will be next to die.

Cake

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We have nommed the cake! by Debbie R, flickr

Because their parents died they made the children cakes: a Mickey  Mouse cake, a beach cake with fondant shells, little hummingbird cakes they used to eat after school. At night the children dreamed of sugar until they drifted down onto an abyss. There was darkness, loss.

Melted

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The Delicious Life by Orange Creamsicle, flickr

The children were told the dead, infected adults were going to the orange juice factory to be cremated. Only the children thought of orange creamsicles, hot summers, sticky fingers, cool melted orange cream. They wondered if they would be able to taste their parents on their tongue.

Voice

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The Night Calls by Vikingwidunder, DeviantArt

There is a hum deep in the woods. It draws neighborhood children from sleep. They slip on snow pants, boots. They sit around its warmth and light while it pulses, its voice a reassuring mother but warning them. In the days to come, they draw monsters and rivers of blood.

Sunrise

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Golden Reef Diner by Gail Frederick, flickr

At sunrise she met her girlfriends for breakfast – she recently apartment-dwelling-divorced, they china-pattern-married. Women can spot a French bath and dry shampoo. They knew she had been out all night. Soon her girlfriends would be weekend-family-full while she would be shared-custody-echoes.

Dye

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bad hair day detail by fox-and-fern, flickr

On Old Cheney Highway a landscape trailer sideswipes kids into the ditch. Sniffling, they pick up their bikes and start walking. A mother with a worn out hair dye job tongue lashes them for being late. They need to eat and clear out. A client is demanding a curse.

Tree

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A Dream of Life by Karen Kleis, flickr

He took your lives, Colette and Barbara from Iowa, a place smelling of milkfat and hay, where your Mama was looking for you, and he buried you in a shallow grave in Port St. Lucie. Nightly a priest performs an exorcism of the Devil Tree where your souls haunt Florida.

Murder

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Bulb by Jon_Callow_Images, flickr

Because of the virus, criminals were released from prison. We lived in Starke, home of Old Sparky, the electric chair. They weren’t releasing murderer Wayne Doty on death row who had had been begging for electrocution so his soul could go free. We loaded our guns, nailed our windows shut.

Resurrection

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Bedroom Frames by Megan Skelly, flickr

On her deathbed, Granny made me swear I wouldn’t let them cremate her so she could rise with Jesus on the resurrection. Promise! she said. They took her body out on an unhinged door, feet first so she didn’t look back and drag us down with her to the grave.