by Jade Leone Blackwater
“Almost here,” chirps Ian, “you’ll see! This sun day’ll be different Violet.”
“I cannot imagine how.”
“Just you wait Vi! Chhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh.”
Ian blows air through his teeth, winding up. My twin brother is not among those who fear the solarrivum. He anxiously anticipates the annual blaze of sunlight, craves the insanity it evokes.
For the unsighted like me it is safer to hide inside until sundown. I’ll finger literature, try to ignore the riot outside. But secretly I’ll wish I could go a little crazy with them.
“Remember your shoes Ian. And take water.”
“YOU remember to lock the doors SIS! Chhhhuuuuhhhh!”
I take Ian’s hand and feel the palm slick with sweat. He shakes loose and lurches, toppling the chair.
“Mem. Memory. Memorize. No momentum can escape—” Ian’s heels squeak across the linoleum. His duck-walk is unstoppable.
“Your shoes, Ian!”
“Can’t catch me can’t catch me wwwwwaaaaaaaacck!”
The front door bolt clicks and the hinges whine ajar. I stumble over Ian’s chair and trace 19 steps to the threshold. Outside laughter rages in hysterics. I reach for the doorknob but my arm freezes outstretched. A cloud of white noise surges with a warm pulse through my skin.
“Ian!” I twiddle my fingers and see shadows waggle in the glow. “Ian come back. Something is happening!”
Thrill or fear, I am unsure which is greater. Behind my eyes a fuzzy twitch twirls like a worm. The hysterical barks sound closer now... much closer.