Get Out Of Town

She didn’t sleep.

The ideas in her head never stopped running, not even when the sun went down at night. She knew what she wanted, but not how to get it.

It was was an impossible possibility that she would ever find happiness.

With dark circles under her eyes and thinning hair, she would lie over her covers. Just incase she got enough courage to leave in the middle of the night. Staring out the window, she thought of driving while she waited for the sun to wake up.

Driving for hours with no place to go.

She’d pack cigarettes, pictures of her dog, and enough money to get her as far away from here as possible. She would look for love in all the wrong places; the bars, strip clubs, diners and the weathered motels she would stop in at along the way. She’d Fall in love with a stranger, they’d fight and fuck night after night, until one of them got sick of it and left.

She’d blow her money on booze and leave the rest for gas, and rundown motel rooms. Driving kept her going. Not knowing where you’re headed left a sense of hope in your heart. Hope of the possibility that something better was waiting for her in the next town, the next county.

Something better than this.

Soon the pills would kick in and she’d go in and out of consciousness. Her perfect dream would scramble and the face of her strange lover would fade, the street signs would dissolve and she’d give up on thinking for the night and close her eyes.


Parking Lot Priest

He shuffled through the parking lot in his torn sweatshirt. The drink in the bag was running through his veins now. He smelt of it, he looked of it, he lived by it. The people coming and going walked around the man, as he stumbled around, screaming of revelations.

A boy with his parents spotted the man sitting by the curb. Approaching him without consent, he asked, “Hi mister, what are you doing?”

He looked up at the boy and smiled. “I’m looking for something.”

“Looking for what, mister?” the boy asked.

Staring at the ground, he replied, “The end of the world son, the end of the world.”

Fair Love

Cotton candy, ferris wheel rides, and ring toss.

He ran the games across from the ferris wheel. They would stare at each other from across the crowed midway, dreaming of holding one another. He would scam the locals into wasting dollars at games no one would ever win, while she would stop and start the giant wheel hundreds of times a day. Everyday they’d both work away, until the sun went down and the cool summer air sent chills up and down their sun kissed, and over worked bodies.

He waited for her every night in the parking lot with an extra sweater and couple of corn dogs and cokes. She’d go to the rundown bathroom to fix her hair and make up before they met. When she finally showed, they would go back to the ferris wheel, she had worked there for a few summers now, so she knew what she was doing. She’d turn it on just at the right time and they would both jump into a seat. When they were almost at the top she’d kick off her sneaker and knock the handle into the stop position.

They had been doing this for years, and it never got old.

They would sit up there with nothing but themselves and the stars. Some nights they would talk for hours, and sometimes they’d just hold each other close and stare off into the sky. They were as close as any two people would ever be, and as far away from the world as they could get.

As the summer came to an end, and the nights got cooler, they both knew soon the fair would leave town and they would both go back to their lives until next year. They never spoke all year except for those two weeks at the end of August.

Their two weeks, their fair love…

That End Of The World Thing

“Christ, I could go tomorrow” he snickered, as he downed another gulp and slammed his glass down on the table. “All of these dates don’t mean a goddamn thing you know, we’ve been looking forward to end of world since time began.”

Rich may have been drunk, but he knew exactly what he was talking about. The whiskey only relaxed him, something that could only help considering the topic of discussion.

“You know what, without all these religious doomsdays, global warming and nuclear wars, what else would we have to worry about? And if we stopped worrying, we’d realize how fucked up everything’s gotten. The end of the world makes us want to try and out do all of the bad things we’ve done. And, if it wasn’t always on our minds, we wouldn’t give two shits about the impact we have on the people in our lives.”

After staggering home, Rich fumbles to find the right key to his apartment and eventually stumbles over the pile of shoes by the front door as he enters his dark and dusty quarters. He doesn’t bother flicking on the light and quickly removes his work boots on his way to the washroom. He plays with the idea of a shower over in his head and finally decides against it. Still in the dark, he heads over to the sofa bed in the middle of the living room and sits by his night table to set his alarm. The analog glow of his clock illuminates the rim of a picture frame placed face down on the table behind a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

He picks up the picture. Blowing the dust from it, he strains to bring it into focus. A tear runs down his coarse skin, but he wipes it away before another could follow. Reaching for the bottle, he downs one last swig before lying down. Closing his eyes, he kisses the photograph and carefully puts it under his pillow.