muse 1

RoM - An Aggressive Return

Ten days ago,

yesterday,

only this morning,

I heard … What’s your heading?Knock ‘em dead. Remember the Mac, — the means always justifies the end. 

Side by side we’ve been through mistake after mistake, revenge and cowardness.

I recognized this well-known voice, but are we ever really formerly introduced to our conscious/ness?

I had been pushed so violently from behind, like being charged with missing a queue; my head snapped back and blacked out a few moments before I opened on the scenes that were filtering in through murky water. Involuntarily pushing off from the quagmire and heading aloft, toward the light, I detected a silhouette of a lifeboat. I surfaced and dragged myself aboard.

My arms ached with muscling in the fight and my one good leg cramped painfully. Rowing up the current was no small feat, the boat held steady, never gaining watery ground. Heading nowhere. A hemp rope tied-on to the board seat snapped taut with an invisible anchored weight below the dark flow. I scanned the current. A bit off, a scaly head revealed itself running toward me. I fumbled for my 10” gerber. Pulling it from my boot, I raised it high pointing down, bracing myself as the boat slowly eased sideways and tipped into the water, like a dipped cup filling. I squinted my eyes, focused and waiting for the dread creature to be within the blood circle.

A blacker slurry was mixing into the swamp. I was leaking from under the skin. With a confused fear I realized I couldn’t feel below my waist and searched my mind to how I had been…

“CUT!”

I shot open my sight to acknowledge where the familiar command originated from … somewhere on the slough bank.

The prop guy failed.

Jeweler, you failed….

The sheets are wet. The air too dry.