Cassandra sits on a rock looking at her face in the stream and thinks, again, about blood.
Some parts of the planet are more fertile than others, but sometimes poor people live in them.
The kudzu isn't as thick and strong as I remember it growing up. It's everywhere, sure, but it's not quite everywhere enough.
She knows she ought to talk to someone about what she's been seeing, but she doesn't move. The poor thing. She's afraid she'll cause a panic. Her family are big into panic. They taught her how to freak out from a very early age and now she doesn't trust them or anyone.
We've managed to clean this area, Sudden Valley up, though. There's nothing to worry about when it comes to harassment from the others, the outsiders, the grasping thieves, the others.
When I was a kid, entire cars would disappear into it. Farms, towns, cows. It appears some animal has become entangled in the vines. No it's not an animal, it's a person, and it hasn't happen it's only going to happen, or maybe really it just might happen and there's no reason to have a panic attack. Do the breathing. Count backwards.
In her dreams everything is going straight to hell. There's calm and there's no more calm. There's life and then there's no more life. There's optimism, and then the world catches fire. The calm in her dreams is the same calm she wakes up to and she knows things are about to go down hill, as in off a cliff. She closes her eyes so as not to see the explosion. 10, 9, 8,
Some say the dam is going to flood us out, but that's hard to believe. It seems impossible. Who would do that? There's a bet about it at the local pub. How many days until they finish building and we find out if we still have homes. 7, 6, 5
In, out. In, out. In, out. Or am I supposed to count from the exhale? Out, in. Out, in. Out, in. yes, something about the supremacy of yin, the zen meditation tapes told me. Out, in. Out, in. Out, in. Calm down, you southern hick. Breathe. Count. Breathe. Count. 4, 3, 2