BookRix

The supernatural has always been a part of my life, regardless if I wanted it to be or not. I had convinced myself so much of it was the overactive imagination of a kid who spent too much time in his head in order to cope with all the shit life threw at him. The memory is a fickle thing, a picture book drawn by a bad artist, an unreliable narrator picking away at the important bits while slamming square pegs in round holes to try and make them fit a narrative. It is also something of a benevolent protector, shielding us from what lies just beyond the veil that divides our fragile concepts of reality and the sledgehammer that is the truth. These last few months really showed me that. So, where do I begin talking about the events that became the hammer to the glass that was my hated reality?

*click*

“Really?” I said to the barrel of a six shooter staring at me dead between the eyes, “I’m trying to have a serious introspective monologue.”

The trench coat wearing man dressed like John Wayne taking himself way too seriously, with his one pure as white eye and a hole where the other would have been stood at the other end, looking like something made from the fever dreams of the Duke himself.

“Jusssstice…” he hissed between gums and rotted teeth, proving that America has always had one hell of a health system.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah... fuck you. I’m tired, I’ve been driving for hours now, I can’t remember the last time I slept well, and most importantly, I’m not sure if I mentioned, but fuck you. So what if its gone!? Better for us, you all don’t deserve to be here anyway, you get that?”

I know, I know, this is a weird place to start, but something about having a gun pointed at your head by a homeless looking Wyatt Earp when you haven’t slept well in awhile just gets you thinking. Reflecting on how you got here. In the grand scheme of what’s coming up, this guy is nothing more than a distraction. Hell, if this was a movie, right now we would freeze frame, have some music and I’d say “I bet you’re wondering how I got here!” Here’s the thing, we won't be coming back here, at least not for a long time. Maybe not ever, because what I’m trying to convey here is that life is absurd. This whole damn thing is funny, it is dumb, and then its gets very, very real.

“Jusssti”

“Yeah, I get it! Justice or whatever, fuck you bu..”

*BANG*

Chapter 1:

The truck backfired and sent puffs of black smoke into the warm desert air of Southern California.

“That’s… probably a good sound,” I said, leaning up against the closed driver door of the white, I think a Ford, truck, my arms crossed on the rolled down window.

“Its normal,” retorted Parker tiredly as he tried to start it again. He reached down to where normally keys would go, and hits a two button switch he had moments ago set-up since he had lost the keys.