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Bury


by Dave Hemmings


I crawl out covered in mud. No stench necessarily since mud is wet dirt and dirt in some circles is clean.

The persons I encounter surround me unsmiling.

Where I am I know exactly. I don't have to pose the question.

Standing I decide to emit.

My most common introductory utterance in this situation is a choked-down cackle.

The surrounding persons lifeless but alive.

I remain in my position and wait.

What next the air seems to say.

One of the persons takes hold and turns me. Swept up in everyone's vision.

It is then I feel the crowd.

Moving inward. Pressing. Crushing. Killing.

Dying.




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