Nails in the Eulogy

Duke stuck the thick pistol in the black man’s back.

Rayna witnessed from the halo edge of streetlight.

Broken tailed rats sneered from the chipped bricks as the moon’s glow flooded the lot.

“You’re in it now,” said Duke, thrusting the gun deeper into the black man’s spine.

“What am I in?”

“The presence of death,” declared Duke. “Can you feel it?”

“Don’t feel a god damned thing.”

“The fear makes you numb,” Duke insisted. “Happens to every one of them”

“What makes you think I’m afraid?”

“The bullet snug in this chamber.”

“Only one thing on god’s earth you know about me,” said the black man, “just like there’s only one thing I know about you.”

Duke remained silent.

“You know I’m a murderer,” the black man said. “And I know your mother’s a dead eyed junky whore.”

Duke clenched his jaw; felt his molars crack and chip. Then spoke-

“Truth is, I didn’t think it was you that killed Hector. But my beautiful beetle over there, my sweet Rayna told me it was so. And because I love her, I believe everything she tells me. Just something I choose to do.”

“Love isn’t real,” said the black man. “It’s just mutated empathy, eating us alive from the inside out. The greatest ruse since god flicked on the lights.”

Duke had enough and spun the black man’s shoulders around, unleashing a sudden burst of light that forced Duke backwards.

A rancid scream came from the shadow where Rayna cowered. Duke’s eyes flooded with terror as the figure of the black man flickered, sparked, then collapsed into a black hole of nothing.

Duke exhaled in the dark silence.

Then, with an exploding flash, the figure burst into a brilliant blue pulsating light, animating the lot with whipping waves of bright indigo.

Duke felt his guts grow sour.

He clutched his stomach with his hands. He was no longer holding the pistol.

It wasn’t at his feet.

A low rumble grew from under the pavement. He heard the echo of a jazz band in the distance. The faint notes like laughing rats, fell into radio static. A milky white trail of light, seeped out from Rayna’s shadow, floated to Duke, and plunged softly into his chest. It filled his heart.

“It’s okay, Duke,” said a voice. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

Duke let warm tears soak his cheeks. He still felt the slight pressing on his chest. A white lace gloved hand was adjusting the rose on his lapel. He gazed at the glove. Noticed how the intersections of netting, flowered into stacks of pearls and thread. The glove then softened into a blur, and the black casket emerged clear in his vision. Again, he heard the distant thump and roll of the jazz band… and again, fall into static. Dusk light now washed the graveyard in pale gold. Duke’s mother kissed him gently on the forehead, then drifted toward the parking lot, leaving young Duke standing at the edge of his father’s grave.