A mop haired monster, its claws on a button

That could wipe out my life and all the things I dreamed about but never did. Not yet.

Pings on my phone, the latest update.

Carefully worded, to make my heart race. It beats the same.

Five hurricanes, names I recognize from a childhood game.

Harvey’s going to get you. Run for your life, and uniformed knees scatter to hide. One unfortunate kid dubbed “it”.

Old man Harvey, he lived across the street from the school,

Down the street from the school,

Around the corner from our house

So we were never far away.

The mango trees in his yard, a constant temptation,

Their juice we imagined, could taste the sweet bursts,

Sap crystallized on the skin,

Diamonds glimmering over a fence guarded by a black mutt that barked its promise.
I can still taste the juice of the fruits my brother risked his life to steal.

I bet he still has the scar from where he ripped his skin on the fence coming back over.

After Mummy patched him up and beat him, and then me for encouraging him,

We ate the mangoes, even chewed up the skin.

My brother, he said it was worth it but we didn’t eat those mangoes again because Old Man Harvey didn’t die until after we moved away.

Sometimes you have look fear in its face

Let the threat shock you then fade away.

Old Man Harvey, when he died, his son said he didn’t want to move back there and he gave the land to the church.

Now, someone ties goats in the open field.

And last time I went back, little round pellets were scattered over the tomb,

His jewels rotting alongside his remains.

Other than the blog, I’m on: Amazon, YouTubeTumblrBloglovinInstagramPinterest and Twitter


All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017, Karen Wright

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