She had been stripped naked and stuffed into the drain, her body torn and broken in several spots but somehow dry and bloodless as well. Pushed in deep enough that I hadn’t seen her body the day before at the mailbox, but not so deep that I couldn’t see now that she had died screaming. I fell to my knees, my head swimming as I crawled toward her. Reaching out my hand, I touched her and she began to crumble away. I recoiled, and then trying to find a way to have proof, I fumbled for my phone. But by the time I had it out, her body was only so much pink, powdery sludge in the bottom of the storm drain.

I saw something out of the corner of my eye and turned to see the thing that looked like my mother staring down at me, her face looking concerned.

“What’re you looking for, Collie? Lost something in there?”

My hands shaking, I pushed myself to my feet and stepped back to the other side of the ditch. “I don’t know. I…I thought I saw something but I guess it was just my imagination.”

She chuckled raspily. “Yes, probably so. Just be careful messing around with things like that.” She gestured toward the drain. “Could find something dangerous in there.”

I tried to laugh, play it cool, but I couldn’t manage it. “I really have to get going. See you later. Bye.” I hoped that my tone was light, but I doubted it. It was all I could do to not run to the car, and as it was, I still gave her a wide berth and kept glancing back until I was inside with the doors locked. Twenty minutes later, I stopped at a gas station until I could stop shaking so bad.

Since yesterday, everything has been quiet…until a couple of hours ago. That’s when I got a text.

Mom: Still feeling great. Miss you. Thank you again for staying with me and helping out. I’ll have to come visit soon and find a way to thank you.

The Monster of Memory

There is music in my heart

My best friend Terry died three months ago. I did the things a best friend does—I spoke at the funeral, I comforted his family, and I helped his fiancée Hannah pack up his things. Terry had been a constant in my life since junior high, despite all the obstacles that usually erode a twenty-year friendship like time and distance. We came from vastly different backgrounds from the start—I was from a small working-class household, while he grew up in a large family so wealthy that money wasn’t even really a consideration for them—just a given, like water or air.