let my soul pick whatever trash it wants

work in progress, juliuswrites, julius ferraro, fiction

i focused on my body: let my spirit pick through whatever trash it wants, i have to drag my heels down this highway. moments later, headlights cast themselves against my back and scattered the darkness ahead to reveal, staggeringly close, a thick life, a musky brown fur, a large, unprecedented reality: a deer, standing before me, looking in the eerie way that prey does both away and at. its alien presence tense, ready, and relaxed all at once, two hooves in the dirt and two on the blacktop. And did I make a move towards it in the very moment that it lunged forward, leaping into the road?

fragments from an in-progress piece of short fiction about memory, deer, and crime.

let my soul pick whatever trash it wants, juliuswrites, julius ferraro, fiction

let my soul pick whatever trash it wants, juliuswrites, julius ferraro, fiction

 

 

 

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