Ghastly grin

Mike Denison (Lumberfork)

Digging through and deleting some old things, found this old thing that felt like it needed a rescue. There’s probably a story behind it, but that’s long, long forgotten.

–

She thumbed through the phonebook by her bed trying to empty her head. She did not know or care if she believed him, or even heard what he said. Then she said to herself in a whisper, “I’m not afraid of being judged. I am here. I will be here.

I am too much woman to hold a grudge.”

She was on her knees, her face against the wall, jabbering to Jesus about hipocracy and all. Two seconds later her brains were sent in flight and she found Jesus black, like the night. 2AM, it startled her awake. That kind of nightmare felt like a stake driven deep into her mind,

like her husband did all the time.

He had quietly predicted her ghastly grin.
She had quietly known that she could not hold it against him.

3AM, a ringing on the clock. She heard a church bell down the block. It made her laught to think of all her mother’s salvation talk. Suddenly, the fix kicked in and the blackness turned to yellow. As the room the room began to spin,

her anger turned to mellow.

“Let me out!” she heard herself scream. She guessed it was just another dream. She leaned towards the window where she heard the night wind sing. 5AM, came peace of mind. There couldn’t have been a better way. Wash off the blood and close the blinds.

It’s going to be a sunny day.

He had quietly predicted her ghastly grin.
She had quietly known that she could not hold it against him.

As daylight broke she ached inside, and felt the needle’s poison wane. When her senses came and she’d gotten through the night, without playing his game, her only imagination was the worry that they would or could somehow track the hand that held the fingerprints on the handle of the knife in his back.

He had quietly predicted her ghastly grin.
She had quietly known that she could not hold it against him.