Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Rain Tern Blues

"Bad dreams.  Nothing new.  Can’t seem to sleep well here.  Just now I dreamt I was back up north again cutting pulpwood for the Frenchman.  In the back of my mind I knew he’d died but somehow he was back and so was I.  It was windy.  No day to be felling trees.  Looking up at a pine blowing back and forth wondering which way it would fall.  Finally cut my notch and started my backcut but partway in I hit fencewire or something.   Tried to bull on through but dulled the chain worse. Turned and started away and the tree cracked and I ran but the dream had me like they do.  Like trying to run through waistdeep water.  When I looked up the tree had twisted and came falling at me and I tripped and woke.  Coldest night so far.  Winter’s coming." 

Read my short story 'Rain Tern Blues' at Revolution John.

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