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Not Far From Detroit

Night falls hard in our town. Summer or winter, one minute it's daylight the next blacker than a smoker's lung. There used to be starlight, Ezekiel remembers the names of some of the constellations. For a cold beer he'll point to where they used to be. We still have beer and a bar on the outskirts, just past the old cemetary.

One night, last week, a buckboard came through. A guy with a beard down to his knees claimed to have come all the way from Duluth. Maybe he did. He fell over dead the minute he set foot in the dirt by the well.

Most people live in the old factory. Safety in numbers, some say. We'd still have sent the old coot on his way if he hadn't up and died. Manna from heaven, though, the horse. The old man's corpse disappeared overnight. We have coyotes and wolves round here, Sure we do.

I know a woman sleeps in an old car over by the GM dealership. Zeke says he used to own it, but he might be lying about that too. I never drove a car, rode in a couple with my dad, before.

You from Duluth too? That's two in no time at all. What's so bad up there? No, I guess not. Well, we ain't got much here, so you'll understand we don't want to share, Mister.

Story by:

Ewan Lawrie

20 May 2014