- “Addict,” your one-word accusation coughed out like blood on a gravel path between this world and the next.
- Cindy was happy there yesterday, in 1998 I think, but she didn’t come home until late, and I was already gone.
- Blindness terrified me the first time, and you were always afraid of the dark. I brought you a desert nite-lite.
- Cindy would be angry because you’re too old. I was too old when I started, though, and Cindy wasn’t there.
- The body went to a butcher with dirt under her nails. Dirt is just old dead things, and I’d tried everyone else.
- When Cindy didn’t come back, I assumed she’d ascended: even shit is holy in the bowels of an angel.
- I was buried alive, but I didn’t mind until you said it was no good. I ate my own flesh so I couldn’t hear you.
- Betrayal in the valley burns savage and dark. You’re here, and Cindy; and the devil won’t shut either of you up.
This week’s one-word prompt is “addiction.”