One by one they rose from the graves. I didn’t know what to say, I was both breathless and speechless. Their beauty was unmatched, despite having been dead for so long.
Caroline came toward me first. She scolded me for thinking I could no longer have or be with the man she loved. Their minds were stuck in time, but I knew better. I listened to her because she was the part of me that believed nothing could change. She was a victim, but also perpetuated victimhood. “And fuck all those nights you were smoking and listening to Lord Huron, rail-thin you should’ve been with him! Downstairs! You didn’t fight for your relationship like you think, you didn’t try to save it, did we? You just let him and I fall to the fucking wayside! Remember that day in the parking lot? The way he looked at you. We had him. He was right there. He was right there. You’re so fucked in the head. You should’ve jumped out of that window.” And I watched her do it. It was more than I could bear from where I was standing.
Blair rose straight up into the sky. Then swiftly came down on me. “How, COULD YOU?!” She screamed so loud everything shook. Tears streaming down her eyes. I knew she’d come after me. It was the longest I’d ever been involved. “You took him away from me I never in my life felt that way before him! NEVER! You act like our life was pure shit, you were flying down the highway at 3am, not a care. Staying in hotels and apartment buildings, laughing until the sun came up the two of us were made for each other! He picked you up off the ground after that other loser left you for dead, what the fuck is wrong with you, don’t you remember??? So what if he was throwin’ up all the time, so what if he made me beg his friends to tell me the truth, so what if he coaxed those strippers in front of you, GOD if that’s not love I don’t fucking know what is!” She nervously took a drag of her cigarette and looked at me in disgust. “You’re worthless without him.” I lay next to her as she crushed the oxys. “1, 2, 10,..” I held her as she lost consciousness. I told you before that I knew better, but I still cried until the next one found me.
Veronica didn’t care who or what she hurt. She was holding a gun. She came from behind as I screamed of fright. “He reminded me of dad,” she whispered. She held the gun to her head as she circled around me. She spoke slowly. “He didn’t call and he didn’t show up, but we were happy.” I shuddered. This was the scariest part of me. Her voice deepened. “HOW COULD YOU TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME??? He could have taken the place of daddy,” she wept. I nodded. I knew. Veronica held decades of unresolved trauma within her. And there was nothing I could do. I reached for her. “No! Send me the emails and that poem or I’ll fucking shoot us both!” Right then I took my hands off the wheel, and ran off the road.
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Thank you for reading. Some updates:
I have two new zines coming out in the next few months; tentative titling: Emotional Horrorshow and Please Just Let Me Die.
I will be a vendor at my first witch market in June, details to be released upcoming.
You can buy my first zine, Devil’s Manifesto, here.
My poetry books, Folk Horror and Rural Horror, are also available here.