Eleven to Four”

By Stephen Ground

Eleven to Four

The horn from [what sounds to be] a mid-sized, mid-priced sedan blares intermittently. Maybe a couple blocks over. Could it be a frail alarm wailing for saviours to indifferent raccoons or Schrödinger’s stars? The three-quarters shy moon? Or a tremoring skeleton, furious because their Supply fell deeply unconscious [in a chemical sense] while Bones weaved over, mid-speed, to hide within the tangerine glow of empty streets? Maybe Bones had nearly landed at the Supply when a Meat [with cracked heart or liquified thoughts] leapt in the path of the mid-sized, mid-priced sedan weaving mid-speed through syrupy tangerine. Caught together in an intermittent loop – weave, leap, horn, return. Forever and ever [at least until dawn].

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Stephen Ground is a prose writer, poet, filmmaker, and picture-taker based in Winnipeg, Manitoba. His fiction has appeared in Lost Balloon, Soft Cartel, Bending Genres, and elsewhere. He also has work forthcoming in Best Small Fictions, and nominated for Best of the Net. Find more at stephenground.com.