My creature is one that tears through itself whenever it sees its visage in the mirror for days at a time without stop. It loses it's panting self in the woods and grants a wish to those teary eyed street urchins lacking school supplies yet clutching Justin Beeber Voodoo Dolls. Pins leap from the chest of the object of affection like growling hounds evacuating a ship burning on the harbor. A look of joy seems to grace the child who grins wickedly; joy like a subtle twitch in the face of the man in the corner with sign language. A languid pool lies loose and slack waiting for the men to come and wash themselves as if they were tormented with a sickness undone by cleanliness. My creature lies awake like the shaft of light leaking through the floorboards. I've seen it appear across the field with a dead eyed stare; marbles rolling across a hardwood floor. Terrifyingly slow, it lopes amid the tired thistles, amber, gray, and maudeline, to meet me halfway. I realize there is a limb outstretched, trembling. It's attached to my body. I've brought with me a bag of corn chips. Without a thought I drop the gift into the maw of this thing. Grinding it's head into the dewy grass with thrushes erupting from the foliage, my creature buries itself out across the bay leaving smoke signals like a requiem. This tried dream devours junk and my creature is sentenced to the maximum penalty. The children disperse to talk about what they saw in the Teen Bop magazine found aside the traintrack. Some images spill out across a continent like milk from a bottle, some like blood from the veins of a thing left long ago. Some creatures tire themselves to appease a stupidity unexplainable, my creature just cooly explains itself to no one.
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