asymmetry
writing is often difficult. it is the act of imposing a form upon something that is formless. often, in this process, you begin writing about the structure of the writing itself instead of that elusive, shapeless, vapor that you were hoping to capture in the first place.
I woke up at 3:00 AM last night. I didn't know the actual time but the air tasted like it was three.
I had been having trouble sleeping because I was waiting. Waiting for a letter. So after I woke up I got out of bed, slipped on the nearest pair of shoes I could find, and went outside. It wasn't raining, but the ground was wet and I could see my breath.
I walked over to the mailbox but realized I forgot the key. So I just stood there. Watching the misty tendrils of vapor that I exhaled. Then I noticed the deer head.
There was a head of a deer on the road, not too far from the mailbox. It was complete with antlers but missing the rest of its body. I stepped towards it to get a better look.
Its eyes were forever fixed in that wild gaze. That moment of absolute terror before death, if animals could feel fear like we do. I wondered what it saw before it could no longer see.
There was something coming out of its neck. Some sort of tube crusted over with blood. I didn't know much about anatomy but I imaged that was its throat, or maybe its spine.
I sat down in the middle of the road and stared into its eyes. The entire street was quiet and sleeping except for us. I felt some sympathy from it. A fellow insomniac. That's when I began to hear the scratching.
From somewhere in the darkness came this scratching, tapping sound. Then, something burst into song. It sounded like a crude imitation of a police siren. It was a coyote.
I saw it step into the cone of yellow light projected by the streetlamp. Just one. Maybe they weren't pack animals. It seemed to be staring right through me, its gaze dripping with hunger. It was going for the head, the only thing that was keeping me company under the moon.
The coyote didn't even seem to notice me as it skittered past towards the head. I couldn't let it take the head so I kicked it swiftly in the gut, which launched it a little sideways.
It vanished into the dark and I heard more skittering noises. I thought it had fled, but suddenly, I felt a jolt of pain shoot up my arm. A snarling mass of teeth and fur was chomping on my hand. I jumped backwards and tried to shake it off but the thing refused to give. After dancing around in agony for a couple seconds I regained my senses and started kicking it in the stomach. After three to four blows I felt something hot gush out onto my hand and it fell to the ground.
My sleeve was coated with blood, mine and his. Choking on my own saliva, I collapsed backwards in the middle of the street.
I gazed as the sky as I regained my breath. The moon was brighter than I'd ever seen before. I rolled over onto my side to look at the head. Thankfully, it was still intact. That's when I noticed something glinting in the moonlight.
I crawled over to the head. There was something shiny in the tube coming out of it. I reached out my non-mutilated arm and pulled it out. It was the key to my mailbox.
I took a deep breath and got on my feet. I limped over to the keyhole and inserted it. It fit perfectly. The box popped open and inside was the letter I had been waiting for.
My heart pumping with adrenaline and excitement, I tore it open.
I'll be waiting at the usual place.