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Mole Wars
The empty street. He was daydreaming, or barely awake. At that age there wasn't a difference, if there ever is. Something about the moles, their small corpses, such distinctive bones. They floated from the grassy ocean onto the asphalt shore. Soldiers from a secret war raging in the empty field. He could smell them from many feet away. Their flesh must have been evaporating, even in the winter's sun. Some say smells are stronger when it's colder. But maybe they were like the marine animals caught on shore...the stench so strong not just from decay; death outside of your salty homeland, outside of a grave. Their sorrow evaporating alongside their flesh.
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Green Igloo
There was this enormous bush tree.
He calls it bush tree cause it looks like a bush but may actually be a tree. It sat there at an empty house's yard. Right at the corner of the street.
He stood there at the bus stop wearing a huge coat looking at the tree.
Bush.
Tree.
Looking.
Now it sort of looks more like an igloo. Maybe he could fit inside of it. He could stand there and nobody would see him. At least not clearly.
He stood staring.
Staring at the green igloo, staring at a tree.Bush...tree.
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