We Need to Do Something by Max Booth III

Author:Max Booth III [III, Max Booth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress
Publisher: Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing
Published: 2020-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

VII. Has the power to destroy everything; to cause the fall of hail, thunderbolts, and stars of heaven; to occasion earthquakes, storms, and so forth. At the same time, it preserves the friends of the possessor from accidents. The figure of the talisman should be embroidered in silver upon poppy-red satin. The magic words are: (1) DITAU, HURANDOS, for works of destruction; (2) RIDAS, TALIMOL, to command the elements; (3) ATROSIS, NARPIDA, for the fall of hail, &c.; (4) UUSUR, ITAR, for earthquake; (5) HISPEN, TROMADOR, for hurricanes and storms; (6) PARANTHES, HISTANOS, for the preservation of friends.

***

Back in the bathroom, Amy’s smiling at me from inside the cracked mirror. Her naked flesh pulsates like it’s independent from her body. Throbbing. A bomb counting down to its inevitability. “I used to cut myself,” her reflection says, mimicking the first sentence she ever spoke to me back in in-school suspension—and before I can respond, every scar on her body bursts in simultaneous celebration. Blood sprays through the mirror and splatters against my face. Small black tentacles peek out from the ruptured scars. Alien tree branches ascertaining whether the coast is clear before shedding its previous host and seeking shelter elsewhere. I try to scream and the tentacles bury themselves into my mouth before I’m able to make a sound.

***

Our phones won’t stop screaming, each slightly out of sync with the other, making the noises jarring and insane.

We form a line and pile into the bathroom—Dad first, clutching an empty thermos; I’m behind him, every step forward painful, my legs itch so bad I can’t stop it but I’m afraid to bend down and scratch them because what if my legs aren’t there? what if legs are a lie and I believed it all this time?; behind me, Bobby staggers in, pupils missing from his eyes but that’s okay, he’s never had pupils anyway, and his breath reeks of something rancid, but he’s always been bad about brushing his teeth, he’s just a kid, kids suck at brushing their teeth, and in his hands he’s holding Spot, Spot who hasn’t stopped yelping since the storm began, Spot who’s terrified of thunder, and he’s so filthy, his fur’s stained with wet mud and something red but I can’t look at that, I can’t; and last, behind Bobby and Spot, there’s Mom, holding a pile of blankets against her chest as she shuts the door behind us, and inside the blanket something rattles, something almost like a snake, but what kind of mom would bring a rattlesnake into the bathroom with her family, what kind of sense would that even make? It’s probably not a snake. It’s probably just the wind.

“Oh my god,” I shriek without opening my mouth, gripping my cell phone so tight I’m afraid it’s going to break. The alert won’t stop blaring. I turn it off and a new one takes its place. “Why won’t it stop?” I finally open my mouth and blood pours down my chin like red paint from a tipped-over can.

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