I understand most things around me. I capture them like a fireflies in a pickling jar. I stare at their truth until they have taught me what I need to know. Then, I let them go to gather more on their own. And if I am lucky, they return to me and tell me more. They do, you know. The animals, birds and even insects, they tell me things.
Uncle Dirk is a man who, when he speaks to me, reminds of a dead person. Not Papa-like dead person whose soul is now accounted for in Heaven, so they say, but a walking dead person whose soul he has shed, the weight of it much too cumbersome to carry around. Aunt Lina. It wasn’t but 4 months later the news came that she had died from complications of pregnancy, at least that is what Dirk said. I have my suspisions. I have a feeling for these things you see.
Excerpt from a previous draft by C. Dennis-Willingham
Visceral –daily post prompt