The Gargoyle Hunters: A novel

by John Freeman Gill

little cow pies of disgruntlement,

building that’s basically rejecting its own flesh.

sky and skyscraper had swapped lighting.

IT’S TEMPTING TO TRY TO FORCE the past to behave in the retelling, to make it lie down flat for once. But some memories, usually those involving my casual destructiveness, stand up like a cowlick.

Greeky terra-cotta ornament the bland beige of Alpha-Bits cereal.

Lightning crackled in the distance, descending through the sky with jerky, Etch A Sketch movements.