#state gothic

Everywhere you look there are hills like sleeping giants

The houses are old, rotting and so are the hearts of those that once lived there.

The doors to old houses are so low that you have to bend at the waist to enter, what were they trying to keep out.

There are signs on every road that reads, "Elephant crossing", you have never seen an elephant. An elephant trampled your neighbour.

There is writing in a language you cannot read on every store, it is your mother tongue, you have to pay a fine if you use it in school. You no longer can even remember how to speak it.

The lanes only get narrower and more serpentine as you walk around town, where is your home.

There is temple down the street, it only comes up to your shoulder. You make a turn, there is another temple, its larger than your house. You pass the temple there is another temple besides it.

There is a woman she's wearing a bandni print saree, you walk past her there is another woman in a bandhni print saree. You enter a store there are five women in the same saree.

The air smells of algae in the evening you close the window, better not let what the river wind in.

Everyday your mother gives food to the bull, everyday there is a different bull, all of them respond to the same name.

every morning a van comes to pick you up for school, it has 20 kids in it already, the van also swallows you.

you pass a funeral procession; your friend says that seeing a funeral procession is lucky. You pray for the dead man.

People come here all the time to see the Grand Canyon. They don't know that it sees you as well.

If you want to live here peacefully, you must have your firstborn child here. Otherwise, you will never make it.

I am a first, born in the driest day of the year in the hottest month. The sand and dust coats my bones and clings to my skin. I don't mind. Monsoons bring a new life to me. I howl at the mountain peaks. I caress cactus blooms, ignorant of the dust blood staining the ground. In the summer, I am one with the heat. I run barefoot on the asphalt, out running the dust storm behind me and catching up to my coyote brothers and sisters.

Do not trust the water. It's a mirage, all of it.

If you look at the sky, it's a beautiful lie. It would be so much prettier without the pollution staining it.

Do not try to leave without informing the desert first. It will not let you leave.

The mountains call out your name, but you know better than to listen to the calls. You go when you're ready, or you never return.

The railroad tracks are always there. Don't follow them, or they'll take you somewhere you don't want to go.

The deer jump in front of cars on purpose. They can't live with the knowledge of what they've seen.

The old brick buildings have stores on the bottom floor, and apartments on the second. You never see who lives there, but it's better to not ask questions.

You can see the abandonded coal processing plant in the distance. They say it's still in use, and it's not until you get close that you believe them.

• Your mother tells you of a cemetery she visited once, and the ghosts she found- the scientist that did suspicious things there. Sometimes it seems she’s still running from the spirits

• There’s always a dog barking. Downtown, in the forest, by your house- you don’t remember seeing any dogs but they’re always easy to hear. Always barking, always howling

• You fall ill and your mom buys ginger ale and saltines. This state is full of sailors that have never sailed. You don’t know the brand of pop, this is what she always buys, why don’t you know the brand? What good does a soda do for a guilty conscience?

• It is never as bad as ‘62. As ‘88, as ‘93. The snow blocks the roads and holds the doors against their frames, but we’ve always seen worse.

• The lake calls to you on stormy nights; you can see the rocks even from a distance, and they tell you to stay aware. They are very old and you are very young, and they will not regret helping the icy water steal the breath from your chest.

• The grass rarely grows- it’s always so cold, -but when it does, it grows tall, and invites the uninvited. It grows past your head and makes you feel small and if you see it shift in the distance, do not run. It can smell your fear

• There is a murderer in every neighbourhood- there’s not one in yours, you think? Look at your hands

• You are warned of bears but never see on in your lifetime; warned of wolves but never hear them for yourself. All you hear is the lonely croon of a coyote, closer to a wail than a howl, and you shiver in your coat.

• Parking lots at night and certain stores are not what they seem. Target at 2 am is not in the same plane as you or I, it’s best to avoid them. If you see a greeter welcoming you in, do not look them in the eye. Their smile is too wide and too sharp- do they want to save you from the monster or are they the ones you’re warned about?

• You live in a city called Fruitport. It is less a city and more a town- it is small and lonely and everyone is always leaving. Nobody remembers a time it was busy. Grand Rapids is a metropolis compared to the ancient bones this village was built on.

The dilapidated industrial buildings are dull and lifeless. You often stare at them out of your car window, and even though you can’t see it, something stares back. Sometimes smoke rises.

You’re tempted to peek out at streetlights behind the curtains during the night. Overwhelming feelings of loneliness and anxiety overtake you.

It’s loud and quiet all the same. Don’t pay attention, it will only make you feel worse.

The local kids will stare at you sometimes. Avoid direct eye contact at all costs, they’re getting more vicious everyday.

Is that gunshots or fireworks? It’s okay, neither can hurt you right now. Crawl back under the covers and it will all be fine.

The sound of a train horn echoes through the air while you‘re out driving, likely after a grocery run. You don’t see any train coming and you don’t hear the horn again.

You turn a corner, minding your business on a usual afternoon walk. PSE&G is there, but they weren’t before. No one told you about their presence and it only sickens you more.

You go to a deli and ask for ‘pork roll’. A low murmur and snickering fills the shop.

- The parking lots are empty. You learned long ago that means the things mimicking vehicles now roam free.

- You hurry to the door. Its locked. Your boss isn't here. Its breathing down your neck. Don't let it know you're stuck.

- The aisles aren't empty. Their inhabitants know exactly when to rush to the next. They know you're coming. They don't know what to think of you yet. Dont let them get comfortable.

- You place an item in its place. You look away. You look back and find the spot empty. The box is shut. The tape is sealed.

- The ladders are not to be used without asking. They don't belong to anyone. Ask nicely.

- Never approach the registers after hours. They need their rest and will not appreciate being awoken.

- Your coworkers are not always what they seem. You see one pass and exit the aisle to find no one. He wasn't on tonight.

- You cut yourself with the boxcutter. It heals immediately. Some of the residents of the aisles know your blood will feed others. You whisper your thanks. The wound begins bleeding the instant you leave the store.

- Its too quiet. You put in ear buds. They like that. It makes this easier.

- There are unknown stains on your clothes. They dont wash out. They'll never be gone.

- You drop something and it ends up in another aisle. The one opposite of you. There is no way it could've gotten there. You realize just how quick some of them are.

- You're asked to stay longer. You agree. Your lungs constrict. That was the wrong answer.

Dixie Gothic

You snuck into the neighbor's pasture once. The cows buzzed and swarmed in the summer heat.

Kudzu climbs your arms, wraps in your hair and spills from the exhaust pipe of your truck. All you can do is wait for winter. Kudzu crawls in your throat and slips beneath your fingernails.

Bluegrass plays somewhere in the distance. You have no neighbors.

Sometimes durning storms you can hear the old ones wailing. You bring your dog inside, just in case.

You jokingly howl at the moon. The mountain rumbles

Sweet tea is the only thing that comes through the tap now, nobody says anything. You all love sweet tea. Your mouth is dry.

"Don't you love how clear the sky is". You grit your teeth "yes". The sky shudders and blinks.

You see a dead armadillo on the way to work. Two more on the way home. The air is putrid and stale. There are many dead armadillos. You drive to work.

Billboards, and oddly placed hand painted signs on the edges of the highway, and the sides of barns advertise and preach the words of God

Amazing old, abandoned barns that make you want to go exploring. 

Those little houses perched up on the mountain, so isolated from one another, that always make you think, “they must have a good view...” 

Your town is either so spread out, your friends live half a mile away, or are squished together to the point where nobody’s house has a yard. 

Driving along highways always guarantees a view of wither large bodies of water, of vast, rolling mountains that make you dream of flying.