Bone Cold

Subject: Bone Cold

A fog from the East sinks into the city. Everything gets just a little wet. No one mentions it. It stays two days before leaving as quietly as it came. Maybe off to Denver?

Haven't gotten a good night's sleep since the voodoo incident. The cicada's used to cry all night long, but when fall came, you could find their dead bodies amongst the leaves. Now there's only the howl of the wind. It's true the train goes right over my building, but you can't hear it - you feel it. What you do hear is the ambulance sirens, speeding through to somewhere in the zipcode almost nightly. Always headed South - never see them come back.

Haven't seen the Sun in four days now. It doesn't simply leave the days cold, or dark, but in a vacuum. Your movements are more precise in the cold. You can feel it in your bones. The Blood Moon visited again. Did you guys see it? It's about all we've got left.

Haven't set foot inside an automobile in six weeks. Six weeks. I miss cars. Sweaty leather upholstery, cupholders filled with pennies, backseat gliding 70+ MPH. I pray every time I step onto the Light Rail. It's dangerous. Rickety. Everybody's got a story of fate just almost placing them on a train-to-be-derailed.

The lines shut down one by one as the night drags on. The Red Line doesn't. They call it the Blood Line. Goes straight through to Bronzeville - get offered every vice on your ride down.

Clutch your pocketblade tight under your coat, the rabble's come out to play.

With love from the Second City,
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10-13-14-CST-18-51