At Dark, I Become Loathsome

by Eric LaRocca

But though humanity doesn’t escape us when it’s dark out, I’ve learned that human decency only exists when it’s convenient.

the way in which the trees seem to bend out of respect for twilight’s charm; the stillness of the sky; and how everything seems to slow to a crawl when nighttime enchants the world.

I couldn’t have been gone more than two or three minutes—having located the card, loose in a pocket rather than tucked into my wallet as usual—before

Its somehow worse to know he truly had no reason to leave his son out there had he looked a tiny bit harder.

I think of the blood they found, which must have once belonged to him. I imagine it pulsing beneath me like a gentle current, carrying me off toward a godless infinity where starlight is eaten by the fanged monstrosities we build inside our minds.

It’s funny how horrible news you half expect can still decimate you, as if you weren’t at all prepared for such dreadfulness. There is a part of me that wonders if Bailey is still alive, but to know that so much blood was recovered and that the authorities believe his chances of survival were slim has succeeded in annihilating me, destroying the shrine I’ve curated of Bailey in the holiness of my mind.

Christianity has made sycophants of most of us—lobotomized zombies who will suckle at any available teat even if it’s leaking lighter fluid and we’re holding a torch. It’s exceptionally humorous how Christianity often condemns things that openly embrace the art form of magic, the espousal of the absurd, the advocacy of the farcical, considering how senselessly its sacred literature conveys its alleged truth.

He recalled reading online about a man from Taiwan who became obsessed with ancient Grecian artwork—specifically, limbless figures. Not only would he make his wife position both arms behind her back while he mounted her; he would spray-paint her skin to look like marble. His wife thought it was merely role-playing and was more than happy to oblige. Until one evening when he pushed her arm into the blade of a table saw. As she was bleeding out, he held her in his arms. He wouldn’t let go, even when the authorities arrived and struggled to remove him.

Eric wrote this story, i remember reading it.