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.