2/?We went to Broken Dreams Avenue, right after Lost Highway.2/? by Onakuru
At the corner was this elder dude with his back and eyes as broken as the place. He’d been there since the street was baptized, he told us. Since before the war, even. I wondered what war he was ranting about but my partner didn’t want us to stop here. We needed to go deeper into that hole of gloom and darkness, full of scum with no horizon. Couldn’t figure out why but eh, I owed him.
- C’mon, gentlemen, you two be kind and I’ll tell you a story, a good one.
But the old man wouldn’t let go.
But the old man couldn’t let go. He was sort of the great mighty guard of the frontier and the tin box he waved was his weapon to defend what was home for him, with two of his own teeth inside, ringing for charity in a place where it didn’t exist. Where it couldn’t exist.
A guard ‘tween them and us, he was, ‘tween us lot here and the big wealthy folks from upper town I reckon
1/?I was long dead before my mother could push me out.1/? by Onakuru
Here’s what I’m thinking while this bullet comes claiming property over my brains, right before my eyes.
My mother, she had grey eyes. Uncommon color, around here. I got 'em too, by this magical process they call heredity. I call it misery. Lack of luck. Fucking doom.
My killer, he’s got green ones. Greeny greedy little balls of light sparkling through this cold winterish night of August. Staring at me being shot as if it will change anything to his petty underlife of his.
Don’t hope, lad. Don’t. You will die miserable, same way you were born. We all will. And I’m leading the way.
A shot in the dark.
Seems I was mistaken. The boy is the one falling to his knees with a hole in his skull. Greeny-reddy eyes, he got there.
They say you see your life flashing in front of you when you die a violent death. They’re wrong. You don’t see it flashing. You don’t see it. You see