Here After

by Sean Costello

He supposed there’d be moments like this for the rest of his life, instants in which holes appeared in the fabric of Time and anything seemed possible. In

He’d grown so accustomed to the weight of his loss, setting it down even for a moment seemed a betrayal.

It had seemed a community in which, even if monsters existed, they never came to your home.

Even now, with his wife and son in the ground, he couldn’t help but hope they were together somehow, at peace, waiting for him. You could hate God, but the hate was impotent without belief. Without hope.

“Besides,” Albert said, opening the screen door now, “if we’re gonna have us a chinwag out here, I’ll be needing my teeth.” He flashed that gummy grin again and Peter had to grin back. “You sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

Lionel was stoked to the gills that night’n started in on her, tellin’ her it was time she quit her whining, the kid was gone and that was the end of it. Told her if she wanted another, he’d plant one in her right there on the kitchen table. That’s when she snapped, and who could blame her?”

you.” Peter didn’t reply. He felt violated, betrayed, as if someone he

he was okay, just a little scrape on his elbow from when he landed on the ground. He looked at the scrape now and sucked air through his teeth. It was really starting to sting, and there was blood and some kind of juice leaking out of it, little drops that looked like the apple juice. Maybe it was apple juice. Curious, he rubbed off a bit with his finger and tasted it. Nope. Too sour.

was.

“Scope the place out,” Roger said. “Who knows, maybe I can nab the son of a whore myself.”

“Hey,” and grabbed her by the hair, surprised when it came off in his hand.

“Usually I’m a light sleeper, you know? The neighbor’s dog farts and I’m awake.

If we can’t live together, then we’ll die together,