#life keep

• I walk down the hallway, several pairs of luminous eyes peer down at me from the shadows forever at the top of the cabinets. I smile at them, walking a little faster.

• The potholes bite at our tires as we drive down the road. We will need new ones soon. The dealerships are running low, the supply will not last long.

• We are chopping wood for the winter. Trying to keep the lurkers from entering our home as we do every winter with little success. A few of the moldy logs shake angrily and murmur when picked up; those are set back in the pile and not spoken of. Perhaps by next year they will be ripe.

• The coyotes have stopped howling. I wonder what they’re afraid of?

• I stare into the corn field, I have been for the past 3 hours, or the last 10 minutes more likely. We have been driving too long, I have seen this field before. I notice the shadows in the corn following the car. I don’t comment on it to my fellow passengers, we will arrive some day. Everyone has learned to be patient, they will tire of games eventually.

• There is something standing in the center of the road. As I pass I make eye contact with them, staring into the eyes of a plague doctor mask. I continue on my way. It will not rain this week.

• The buildings tend to come and go as they see fit. Today it is a dollar tree, 24 hour. This one will stick around for a while, it is of use to them, it will survive longer than the others.

• I have to venture out, the lock on the front door has been broken for the 3rd time this week. It is 4am, not a safe time, I will bring a friend for company. I arrive in the isle of locks in the Walmart (it was a petsmart last week). The floors are smudged and shelves knocked over, this one won’t last long. I pick out my lock but my companion has to go to the bathroom, fear flickers in my eyes but I have no power to tell him. He leaves, I continue to the checkout. My friend will not be returning.

• There is construction on 75. There is construction on 71. The empty vehicles sit dormant, the cones sneer at is as we wait. They’re cutting off our exits.

• I am in class, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Everyone knows better by now than to have the ringer on. It’s from my father, a meme, I like it. He is still alive.

• It is raining, 40 degrees. I put on my jacket, knowing it will do little good. I step out of school, it is sunny, 95 degrees. I abandon my jacket, there will be another one waiting at home.

• I met someone from Cincinnati once, I pitied them. The potholes are so much hungrier there. The river demands much more than they could ever give it.

• I hear sirens in the distance. “It’s Wednesday” they seem to be getting closer, we won’t last long.

• A whisle in the distance. The tracks shake. I cannot sleep. The tracks are rusty, there haven’t been trains in years. They say the 4am train still runs to Chicago out of Union Station. People talk but no one has ever known anyone who’s taken the train. Everyone knows better than to try to escape.

• The workmen travel in packs. They mill around the roads. One man works while the others stand gaurd, ready to step in and take the last ones place. They’re always digging holes. They cannot satisfy the pothole’s hunger, they know their fate.

• The coyotes shreak in the night. I am in the middle of the city, I am in the middle of nowhere. It doesn’t matter, I still hear their screaming. They are drawing closer.

• The snow whips around the car, little white dots coming out of the darkness. No time passes as we drive down the highway. Are we even still on the highway? No one knows. We continue driving. Anything is better than stopping, we know what waits for us just behind the snow if we do.

• I get on the metro bus. It is dusk, there is no one else on the bus. We do not stop, there is someone in the back of the bus. It was always there. I get off the bus, it is 5am, it is almost dawn. I am in a Walgreens parking lot, I have no memory of how I got here. The bus is gone. That went better than last time.

• I hear a scream from another classroom. No one flinches, no one asks, and most importantly no one goes to check if everything’s alright, we all know it isn’t. We continue with the lesson. The screaming fades. We are safe for now.

• I open my window, my cat looks into the woods and growls, I see nothing. I close the window and lock it. I was lucky, it’s always worse when I can see it. I mustn’t forget to close the windows tonight, that’s just asking something to come in.

• We hear distant gunshots. “It’s deer season” We hear them again. “It’s rabbit season” Eventually we ran out of animals. We stop noticing the shots, we know to stay out of the woods. We see movement from within the snow, the trees seem to shift, whisper. The snow forms shapes. We close the curtains and lock the doors. “It’s hunting season”

• “Knee high by the 4th of July!” I cannot see the horizon. I don’t mention this to anyone, we all already know. The saying is true. We do not know who’s knees they are. we do not want to know.

• There has been a pothole there as long as I can remember. The city says it will be fixed, we know it never will, the city is just as afraid as we are. They’re multiplying. Growing. We have no power over then. Stay off the roads at night, that’s when they hunt.

• The night highway screams. Something screams back. “It’s just semi-trucks” but the highway is empty. I go back inside, it is dangerous to listen for too long.

• I listen, I hear nothing. Everything is too afraid to sing, I do not know what they fear, but I fear it too. It is a Quiet Night, those who are foolish and make noise or venture into the silence will join the wailing of the highway. I know well enough to heed the warning, I go back inside.

• People always talk about the corn, but never the soybeans, they are too afraid. The corn is tall enough to disguise the creatures that hide within it, it provides places for their eyes to peek out of. The soybeans do not. Don’t underestimate the soybeans, they cannot be escaped so easily.

• We pass another truck stop. We stop, we have no choice. It is okay to use the bathrooms as long as you have a companion and don’t linger. Never wander or buy any of the food. If you eat the food or take too long, you belong to them. Don’t run to the car, walk, but not too slow. Don’t show them your fear, don’t look behind you, hurry, they’re closing in. Drive away, never look back.

We pass another truck stop. We keep driving.

• I was born in Ohio. I was raised in Ohio. I have lived my whole life in Ohio. I have never met a single person with an Ohio accent, I fear the day that I do.

• Buy fruit from the vegetable stand man only before the !!!! of !!!!!. After that, the fruit is no longer yours to buy. It still disappears, but it is not for you.

• We bring out own lunch to school. They’re not allowed to feed us anymore.

• The fog is heavy tonight. The cell tower’s red light reflecting on the fog. It’s eye is bigger. It is still watching. Always watching.

• I forgot to get the mail today. I have to get the mail, I have no choice. It was snowing outside, so dark. I was foolish, I went anyway. I didn’t have a coat, only sneakers and a house coat. I went anyway. The snow seemed to form huge white walls on either side of the driveway, I cannot see beond the path, I do not want to. I can feel it watching, I stay on the path. The wind is chill, but I do not feel cold. I make it to the mailbox. The wind howls louder. I can feel it watching from the fields, the snow swarms around me. I return home. I can’t believe I was allowed to make it back.

• It’s the middle of summer. Something falls down the chimney and into the hearth. It sounded large and slimey. I do not open the doors.

• Huge dark birds circle overhead. I count how many I see each day. I see 2 one day and 43 the next. They seem to be trying to say something. I cannot hear them.

• Don’t go into the gas station after midnight. You can no longer comprehend the difference in dimentions. That’ll be $3.49, I hand over a bill in a language I don’t recognize, I get no chance back. I leave. What did I buy?