See their eyes? They’re watching me. Waiting for me to stumble. Waiting for the moment they can rise from blood-drenched forms, grab rusted daggers, and drive each point deep into my belly.
They’re coming! Dragging twisted flesh and jagged bone, the rot, the sludge, the stink.
You reach out to soothe fears. You see the battlefield as it is; I see it how it was. How it still is beneath sweet meadow grass and swooping meadowlarks dotting the sky.
Gopher hole opens; your ankle sinks deep.
I shriek and flee, knowing by your screams each time the dagger strikes home.
Copyright © 2016 by Emily Clayton
Originally appeared on Microcosms: