southeastern virginia gothic
- there isnt a day that goes past that you dont pass by a person in a navy uniform. no one ever seems questions why the uniforms are a century out of date.
- old houses line the streets in various states of disuse. sometimes, out of the corner of your eye, you see women dressed in blood stained white aprons standing in the windows. when you turn your head, theres nothing.
- you are in the wal-mart parking lot, packing away bags, when teenage boys streak past in their rusty pick-up, the red, white, and blue of the confederate flag waving frantically in the wind. you notice the rifles in their truck and pack faster.
- you can hardly drive a mile without passing by a church. there is always a cheerfully bright 7-11 in between them, with blank faced and blank eyed customers filling their cars or sipping on slurpees.
- at night, when you are trying to sleep, you hear the sound of a train on tracks. you once looked up how far the sound of a train is supposed to travel and find it to be 3 miles. you live 10 away from the closest set of tracks.
- in the summer, there are people on the roadside selling homegrown fruits and vegetables out of the backs of their trucks. you notice their dark, hungry looks and drive faster.
- you go to the boardwalk, once and only once. it had been a good until you noticed that not every one who went into the water came back out. you ask a girl in bright clothes what the floating things are. she smiles and says “oh, those are just weeds. nothing to worry about.” you leave immediately and never come back.
- day after day, jets fly overhead. they shake everything; your house, the windows, your very bones. you spend a whole, cloudless day watching for it, only for it to never appear. though its not there, the hum rattles your bones enough for one to fracture. you no longer question it.