|
|
||
| The Face at Pacudora It looked at me twice as it blazed out of the trees, its hair a fiery green, its three arms waving out of its body like the mightiest diamonds in the world. It hovered off the ground, commanded me to close my eyes. When I did, the only devil I ever saw Rrmoved the face from its face and recited alphabets I didn’t know. I opened my eyes and fought the headache so I could see the dark alley behind my grandmother’s house where trash cans were flipped over by the wind, the demon chasing me into a crowd of red monkeys at the end of the lane. I cried out and kicked beer bottles in my way, breaking glass spreading the monkeys up the wall. I don’t recall the rest, but the face at Pacudora hissed four words at me—stay, open, look, sleep, then disappeared, the breath of its stinking alley burning decades of memory into me. >TOP |