Tunnels

It's 10 o'clock, Tuesday night. Hoop is asleep on the couch. The neighborhood kids are outside lighting fireworks, pretending they're cowboys in a shoot out. The rain has finally stopped. The dew on the lawn shines like a million tiny eyes. They watch me, waiting for my feet to stir, to crush them into the ground. I pivot slowly. There's a toad two feet away. I ball my fist, comparing the size. He stalks after a worm that has been loosened from its home. Nip. Nip. He flings him into the air, swallowing him whole. No more.

I creep back in. Toe, heel, toe. Hoop stirs, a shallow smile flickering across his face before he slides back into sleep. The house is quiet. Too quiet. I fold my legs into my lap. I unfold them and then tuck them in. I untuck them and then stretch them out. I selfishly trace a finger across Hoop's foot, willing him to wake. My mind runs in and out of tunnels, unearthing things like long lost tombs. My best friend in high school made mixed CDs. I listened to them in endless cycles. But it wasn't until today that I heard them. Truly heard them.

They spoke of love, a love that wasn't. "If I push you, you might break, loving me for friendship's sake." He spoke so little. When he left, silence was my only reminder. The tunnel turns and there I am, slipping through my open window. I trace the road away from lights, to a tree next to a dock. In the moonlight we bury a stone, smokey and pale beneath the dirt. It looks like an egg. I daydream about what it might hatch, drawing doodles across my homework of leafy birds with gigantic beaks.

The tunnel drops and cools, sinking below the wealth of hidden jewels. I'm brought back to the last supper of my Father, a Godless meal. We yelled while it crackled in the pan. When we were through, my Father tossed it into a bowl. An uneaten feast. No matter how much I wanted it, I couldn't stomach a single bite. My mind wouldn't stop whispering, "It's poisoned." Suddenly, it's too dark. The tunnel is too deep. I surface, seeking the light. Hoop's snores, soft and raspy, signal me home. I curl into his warmth, a bed of flesh, and wonder why I ever left.

P.S. Twisted (Tink) has been updated with two newly revised chapters, "The Name Game" and "A Hairy Tale." Fly on over for more of my twisted tale. As always, comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.