The Princess Fingers Herself Through Her Lace Lingerie

by dschapman

“Keep out of my house, evil demon, keep out of this place of goodness with your scary, evil demon ways.” I bang my shotgun against the doorframe and let the dog run after the shadows in the hills. There is someone out there tonight. They are going to rob me. They are staking me out. They are waiting to slit my throat. I must not sleep tonight. I must be vigilant. I must outgun the demons.

The people of the valley are a good, decent people, Christian people, but there are evils in a place like this as well. I live in a decadent house on the bad side of town and look down on the shanties around me. Inside the shanties the demons take root. People cook meth in their kitchens and when their houses catch fire, the firemen just let it burn. “Give them a good show,” said the mayor to the fire chief, “But just let it burn.”

The ruler of this valley is a good, old boy. He is a Christian and a racist. He has capitalized personally on the back of the valley, as many around him have capitalized. The government coffers are God’s gift to them, and they keep the tired cogs of society turning adequately, while underneath it all a monster rots. Sometimes, in the height of summer, the heat boils the corpse, and a smell wafts up, sulfuric, and it stinks…

My glasses are heavy and I throw them away. I put some contacts in but they are heavy and dry and I quickly remove them. I decide I will go without eyesight, if that’s what it takes.

 

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