Nathan Reese Maher

“Cry no tears for us, my friend.” I pry at her fingers, panicking to be released in fear that she may drag me into death with her. She croaks again, “Lend no aches to the dreams of yesterday.” From the corpse of Warren, his greyish gums smack from whatever goo has settled in his mouth, “Allow the tide sweep free the bay.” Then together they sing in zombie choir, “And home the ships sailing send.”

“History doesn’t start with a tall buildingand a card with your name written on it, but jokes do. I think someone is takingus for suckers and is playing a mean game.”

“Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lostmemories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreamsplay when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?”

“That’s a stupid name! Whirly-gig is much better, I think. Who in their rightmind would point at this thing and say, ‘I’m going to fly in my Model-A1’.People would much rather say, ‘Get in my whirly-gig’. And that’s what youshould name it.”

“Yes—and had we one, you’d probably never see us at all.” Mrs. Locke adds jokingly.Emily pulls ecstatically against my clothing, a new found joy in her eyes.“Samuel! We must find a piano for the Lockes! It is the very least we can do!”

“She leaves my side and heads deeper intothe apartment singing, “—if the spirit tries to hide, its temple far away… acopper for those they ask, a diamond for those who stay.”

“I rouse Emily to our guests, as she finishes off our fifteenth snowman by setting the head atop its torso. She stands limp at my direction, pointing out the coming shadows and I cannot help but hear a muffled sigh as she decapitates her latest creation with a single push of her hand.”

“There is a stillness between us, a period of restlessness that ties my stomachin a hangman’s noose. It is this same lack in noise that lives, there! in thedarkness of the grave, how it frightens me beyond all things.”

“Call me crazy, but there is something terribly wrong with this city.”

“I wondered whether you and Mr. Locke had any recollection about the past.I see now that we all suffer the same.”

“I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow, and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl, beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.”

“Look Samuel!” She points to the couple—I noticing a twig sticking out of her hair. “Mannequins.”

“Another like me? Don’t leave me out here with myself! I’d go mad. Pleasedon’t leave me alone, Samuel! Just take me home!” Tears stream down her face.“Please take me home!”

“Did Bach ever eatpancakes at midnight?”

“Her eyes sparkle with a rising dampness. “I’ve seemed to overstep myself,Samuel.”

“I can’t help but ask, “Do you know where you are?”She turns to me with a foreboding glare. “Do you?”

“All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.”