There was at least three inches of fine, black soot on the railings and stairs. At midnight he’d heard those same trucks roll through town.
A deck of cards was produced from somewhere. They were instructed to draw three, randomly, despite their obvious medical conditions.
The band arrived in an old Cadillac. They rolled, stumbled, and fell out of the vehicle. Their instruments were strapped to the car like hunted deer.
After the unfortunate trapeze accident all she could say was “With a knick-knack paddywhack” in a singsong voice, over and over.
The rhythm was infectious. Medical teams were flown in but not everybody could be saved.
Marble blocks were placed as markers at regular intervals. Denials were official. Recitations were long public events. Carnival food and prizes could be found towards the back.
The city block was a combination of abandoned buildings, rubble, and street fires. But that morning it was full of garish circus tents and hyperactive clowns juggling skulls.
The border between countries was a gigantic pile of dead leaves. The citizens were all dogs.
She caught the bug between her thumb and forefinger. The bug licked its lips in anticipation.
The electric fence at the perimeter knocked them unconscious, releasing encrypted balloons over enemy skies.
Peering at the space under the partition he could see several pairs of hoofed feet. When it came time, he would jump.
“One thing I’ve realized–nobody understands what rules reality should follow, and nobody really cares.”
Excited children gathered in front of the cage, unsure of what was hunched up and hissing in the corner.
Three short sharp breaths then she stuck her head into the bucket.
When the trays were brought in everyone howled like wolves.