The Dead Girls

Remembering the two dead girls, he slues around and scans the lake, but nothing, dark empty trees, a shiny black expanse of water.  The moon high overhead, casting an obscene glow across the surface.

They’re gone.

No they can’t be.  Too many beers, is what.  He’s having trouble seeing, vision blurry and such.  They gotta be there.

Squinting, he searches again, but still finds nothing.  The lake is empty, and he’s alone.

Goddam, did I hallucinate? he thinks.  A shudder passes over him.  For some reason their being suddenly gone is worse than their being present, as if they’ve hidden from him—or worse, that he imagined them.

No time to think about it now.  He’s done what he came here to do.  No point in wracking his brains about it.





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