The tiny thing spoke in a loud, booming voice. Then there was scrambling and digging. Bricks were dislodged. Everyone stepped back.
The stage coach pulled in, empty, each horse painted a different, vivid color.
These tools aren’t meant to be used, she said. She took the hammer from him and carefully placed it back into the cabinet, giving it a small, reassuring pat.
Hours later they found themselves wandering down an empty dirt road dragging the crate behind them.
The dream began in an Italian plaza with a million others. Sticks and hoops were distributed by some unknown mechanism. Then he was off, running down a cobblestone street.
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.