Sometimes when it is still at night, not a sound anywhere, you might think of the racket at the Adoration of the Fabulous Beasts. Or if you are somewhere where you have to be awfully quiet and behave yourself, it helps to think of that rowdy gang and all the rumpus they’re making. Yes, when you were born they did this for you. But maybe it would be fun, if it’s all right with your Mother, to make a lot of noise, and that does happen now and then — you might join in right now.
“For the past
three days she had done virtually nothing but sit on the
edge of the couch-bed and stare at the blank walls while
listening to the rattle of the glass in the windows until it
seemed to come from a pair of drums beating a tattoo prelude
to her own execution.” Jack Lindeman, who’s poetry we have been privileged to publish in CS2 each month, turns his formidable talent to the art of the short story in Elvira.