Building 8 “It’s in the Sand”

Went to a concert. I took the blue line in. Wires lined the walls of the train tunnel. They were like veins. Maybe they were. They looked like veins. Looked organic. As the train moved, it swayed back and forth. Motion like that always makes me sick if I focus on it.

Was alone in the car. Stayed that way most of the trip.

Train picked up speed. It got louder as it went. A harsh shrieking sound hurt my ears. Got louder and louder as the train got faster. Covered my ears, but it just got louder. Like it was angry and I didn't want to listen. I wanted to scream.

I did scream. It hurt so much. My throat was raw.

Felt thirsty. And the train got louder and louder. Was sure we would go off the rails. Was going to fast...

Train stopped and more people got on.

One with a suitcase sat down in front of me, placing their bag in the seat closest to the window.

Couldn't see beyond that.

Looked out the window. There was hair flipping in the wind. Long stringy hair. Assumed it was just a reflection. From the seat in front of me. But there was no one there with long stringy hair.

Whoever it was, it clung to the outside of the train while in the tunnels.

Disappeared when we reached daylight...

Was a nice concert. Relaxed people. Was alone. Left early...

I took Loyd to the vet. He has gained ten pounds. Vet was confused. Said a cat of his type and his approximate age shouldn't be growing at this rate. Would be concerned about the excess weight, but for a cat his size he is still normal, even after all the gains.

Talked to Margaret on the phone. Said she was planning on heading home by the end of the week.

Said she missed me.

Been trying to make it right. I’m trying to focus on what I did to make her go away. I dumped out my bottles again. Cheap stuff. Wasn't that hard. Used to drink more expensive things. Neighbors probably won't mind if I don't drink when I am over. I never see them drink anyway...

I want to scream.

I have the radio on. Local station. They’re talking about the coming of autumn. It’s supposed to be a bad winter this year. Lots of snow. I don't like thinking about it. It's too early to think about it.

Something about winter fills me with dread.

I used to love the holidays. They are still a long way off, but something about last Christmas has stuck with me.

That thing with the long arms. The present wrapped in gold...

The scalpel. It wanted her to have it.

It was hot today. Spent some time outside, working on the garden.

My dad liked to garden.

I always kill the things I plant, but I guess there is always another chance. No one can really stop me from doing it each year. I don't know why I do it. Could just have plastic plants and call it a day. Looks like they are alive even if they aren't, but I prefer to try again; to plant again.

Margaret always likes the flowers. At least as long as they last.

She hates cut flowers.

Every time I try to plant a garden, I make a mess.

Heat reminds me of the war. Reporting on it. Trying to anyway.

Was always so hot out there. Sand was everywhere.

This sort of heat that makes you dream. Seems I only started dreaming and remembering my dreams when I was out there.

First dream I could recall was a desert in a storm. Rain falling in heaps from a black sky.

Black pyramids and a terribly large thing, lumbering forward. A black shape, fur dripping with rain. With a smile of blades...

The Lyld

Its eyes burning in the dark.

Like a dead man.

The rot is returning. I can smell it whenever I leave the house.

Not enough rain. The leaves are baking through. They leave holes in their surfaces.

Lots of holes.