The man cut a Comanche arrow out of the mule’s flank after the fight at the tanks, but the festering wound would not knit.

Crossing the rain-swollen Nueces, the mule died under him and dumped his possibles into the churning red water.

He’d felt the animal falter as he spurred it down the bank, so he wasn’t surprised and managed to leap from the saddle, snatch up his powder and shot from the tree while he pulled his Walker Colt from his waistband. He waded ashore holding them aloft like holy relics.

But the man was afoot and it wasn’t two days before the half-breed Quanah and his band ran him down.

He managed to kill four of them before the Colt misfired. By then it was over.

The man spoke enough Comanche to understand what they had mind.

There was no comfort in this knowledge.

#MarchChallenge

“It’s hot in here,” I whined.

“Yeah, no shit,” Eric answered. My brother got it worse than me, but he was also tougher than me, so it evened out.

I rubbed my arm and noticed how dirty I was. It had been a week since I last bathed. I itched everywhere.

“You think he’s up yet?” I asked.

Eric nodded, his blue-grey eyes cast far away. The light shining through the slats in the barn door made him look older than sixteen.

I paced in circles, staring at the dirt floor. The block in the corner was stained rust. Flies buzzed his recent kills and the rotting smell grew as I approached.

I heard the screen door slam shut and my head snapped around. I hunched down to squint thru a gap. He was coming. I reacted quickly, grabbing the chicken head closest to me. Even now, I have no idea why. It was covered in maggots and flies lifted off when I ripped it from the floor, leaving feathers behind.

Slushy footsteps sounded outside. Suddenly Eric was on top of me, pulling my collar, shoving me behind him. Just as the bar slid open, he shoved my hand deep into his painter’s pocket. Squeezing hard, I let go, the head falling to the bottom with a wet thud.

Da stood in the barn door wearing his old gray bathrobe. Too short, it showed the scarred knees and wobbly legs of an old man. Only we knew better.

“Well, come on then,” he said quietly. He sounded reasonable, sober even.

Eric strode out, jaw set, eyes fixed straight ahead. I glanced up at Da and then ran, scampering on Eric’s heels.

Inside the light was dim and Da shuffled around the kitchen, limping in his usual pattern. When he was safely in front of the TV again, Eric and I drifted off to separate corners. 

But when I came out of the shower, Eric was sitting at the top of the stairs.

“What?” I whispered down to him.

He didn’t respond, so I gingerly stepped around to him, cautious of slipping in wet feet. 

“What?” I repeated, softer.

He silently held up his palm. It had a fresh cigarette welt in its center. Red and going on pussy already. Mild for Da, but still, I should make myself scarce. Eric shooed me upstairs and then cradled the hand in his lap. I tried to read his face, but he was a blank. I ran back up, latching our bedroom door in slow motion, trying not to breathe.

Eric was bristling, shaky, as we made dinner. He set Da’s plate in the usual spot, then laid the baked potato in the center instead of on the side. When I opened my mouth to ask why, Eric gave me a cold, tight smile.

On top of the potato, he carefully placed the chicken head, beak out. With one filmy eye staring, I thought it wore Eric’s expression. I panicked.

“Eric, he’ll be back any minute!” His beer runs never took more than twenty minutes and we were going on fifteen.

Like he had before, Eric pulled my collar. But this time he pushed me in front of him, toward the back door. Leaning into my face he said, “I’m gonna do it, Davey. Hide in Mrs. Peterson’s greenhouse. Don’t come back until you hear the sirens.”

“No! Eric! Don’t!” I begged. I don’t know whether I was worried about him or Da or both of them.

“I love you Davey. Now go!” He shoved me harder and I stumbled backwards slamming into the screen door. I heard the Chevy pull up and I took one last look at Eric. His hands, empty, were clasped behind his back. Even so, he looked ready. I ran out into the night.

I didn’t make it to Mrs. Peterson’s. I heard the car door slam, then a thunderous “Whad you do boy?” More shouting and a loud explosion. I saw in my minds eye what was happening. Them tussling and crashing thru the table. When Eric started screaming, I turned back and ran for the house. I knew that I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t let it happen again.

I banged back inside. Da was in the center of the crushed table on his knees, choking Eric. “Da!!! Stop it!” I jumped on his shoulders, trying to pull him off. “You’re gonna kill him! Stop!” Eric’s eyes were bulging, foamy spit spilling down his chin.  His feet were kicking up silverware and chunks of plate.

Neither of them looked at me. I felt myself dissolve in that moment. The sound zipped away from me all at once. I was suddenly alone and not quite real, like a ghost bearing witness to a decades old murder. Everything that was happening was beneath me. Just a stain under the floorboards. For a moment, I felt the concrete chill of my prison cell. And then with just a subtle twang in my eardrums, the world came rushing back in.

I could hear Eric gagging, could hear Da’s heavy panting from the sweaty exertion of murdering his eldest. Eric’s face was purple now except for white circles rising under his eyes and around his mouth and nose. I stooped down for the second time that day, my hands reacting automatically. One long screw, still clinging to splinters, protruded ninety degrees from the end of the table leg I now held.

I raised it up as high as I could and smashed it down on Da’s neck over and over, hitting close to his hairline each time. As he fell, he crashed down on top of Eric, mini volcanos of blood spurting from his back. He started to buck as if an electric current ran through him.

Nothing at first. And then Eric started to ooze out from the right side of the broken table. One ear appeared, and then a smashed nose. He managed to push a little and I pulled with everything I had left. Half hanging in my arms, we got him up in one of the chairs. 

We looked down at Da, who had ceased twitching. His pool of blood was so big he couldn’t have any left in him.

“Davey,” Eric started, then coughed up more blood.  His cough sounded squeaky. Something was broken inside of him I thought, picturing shards of glass. This was confirmed when Eric grabbed his lower ribs and groaned. He made a diarrhea face, before continuing. 

 “Sirens. They’re gonna come Davey, and…” Coughing blood out between his fingers, he stopped. He spat onto Da’s leg, then pulled in a big hackey breath and said “You gotta tell them about the barn, about Mom. You gotta…” Then Eric’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward into my lap. 

 All at once I was alone. That ghost feeling came back then and it hasn’t left me since.

The rest…well. Sherriff Mitchell was a friend of Da’s. He knew what went on at our place, both before and after. He knew or could easily guess where Mom was buried. He could’ve razed the barn and have her exhumed. Could have seen my way of things. But he didn’t. He made it seem like me and Eric had jumped Da.  I was convicted as an adult.

Sometimes I blame Eric for not running. But he wanted to take down the beast. For Mom. Maybe a little bit for me. He just couldn’t do it alone. So we managed it together like we had done everything before. 

I’m still watching it happen you know.  In that kitchen, in that barn, on those stairs. I’ve never left that place really. Just like I’m never leaving this one.

Drops of glistening dew,

in formation on emerald

paths, bustling toward the

edge of atmosphere,

praying for evaporation

before

t

h

e

fall

She's standing there with a cigarette

Her little thumbnail keeps flicking it

She's not vintage

She's not couture

She's just a dirty little

Oh oh oh

I can see her ink from the sag in her jeans

Her eyes are painted dark

Her hair's tangerine

Black framed glasses she's never been hip

She's just a dirty little

Oh oh oh

She's got her pretty toes painted

As she digs her heals in

You know her heart's been tainted

With perfect little sins

She's never been called the girl next door

As long as I've known her

She's been a dirty little

Oh oh oh

From within the surface of the lake

bubbling droplets evaporates,

                                                        e s

                                                            c

                                                                 a

                                                                         p

                                                                                            e

                                                                                                          s.

Waves ripples

as Herbert giggles-

roaming

           along

                 sandy

                         beds.

Herbert's wingspan is mighty grand-

with silvery scales oh so fine.

Hopscotch's his game

he hops             Skips

          and

along the lake bed

nice and quick

without       waves           never

            him          would           be...

On occasions he would simmer

beyond the surface-

searching for dinner.

He'll pounce and ROARRR

(and breathes real fire)-

he does this almost every hour;

causing lakes' water to

                                m    

                                                 i     

                                                                     s      

                                                              t-

And you thought dragons did not exist...

Copyright © yikici 2016-infinity

I haven’t slept and the supplements really don’t work. I can’t really have justly expected much, either, because nothing really works for me.

My body doesn’t work
My lungs don’t work
My brain hurts
My chest stings
Everything doesn’t work

But I cannot cry and call myself the victim
For although it’s twisted,
This is fate
I am a pawn in it’s hands
it’s twisted, yes, but so am I.


It only seems fitting;

I wish I could write (beautiful) poetry 
Or make art. 
But those are beautiful things 
And I cannot do beautiful things
When I will never be beautiful myself

My mind is dark
And overpowered by self loathing 
I want to be good
I want to be that girl that everyone loves 
Whose beauty everyone envies
Whose modest confidence radiates 


But my mind is dark
and I’ve become terribly bitter 
My own face scrunches up at my ways
Everyone agrees that I’m a terrible person

I was not made for this world 
The one with people, at least


People, I cannot connect with 
I am too far gone and too irrational

I feel connected in the wild;
The sun warming my skin in moderation
feels like the only hugs I have no discomfort in,
the winds are the only soft caresses I’ll allow,
the sights of the forest and it’s creatures 
Are the only eyes I can unwaveringly look back into. 


I belong in the wild

When I go it will be in the wild
I will break free

I was not meant for people
Or interactions
They want beauty;
That I cannot give. 
My bitterness has overpowered me
And one day I will return to the wild
That is what I am
That is where I belong
this body was a grave mistake
And I will return
Rotting and transforming in the ground. 
Only then will I be at peace.

I am Rip Van Winkle

Past the edge of waking

After nearly drowning

In a dope deep sleep

No hope

No love

No dreams

To keep

I weep

Then

Dust myself off

And stand to my feet

Think it was my Granny said,

"Boy, a closed mouth

Don't get fed."

So I face the future

Without dread-

Hungry.

Biting through adversity.

...Sharpening my teeth

All the while.

So,

If you stand

Against me,

Best respect

My smile.

Shaking bones, a heavy heart

This is where a warrior starts

Pain of loss, a single tear

Strength from ev'ry realized fear

Feeling owed, no debt repaid

This is how strong will is made

Love and rage, a storm within

This is where the fight begins

Hope to stand, a soul departs

This is where a warrior starts

Hush, my son and go to sleep

One day you will never weep

Skies are dark and no one's here

Feeling lonely, feeling fear

In your dreams that end the day

Someone says it's all okay

Muscles tense and joints ache

Steady ground beneath you quakes

Mama's gone and Daddy's dead

Take this kiss upon the head

Dry your tears and close your eyes

Say goodnight, it's not goodbye