That night I had nightmare about Old Pete and his leg and Papa saying “he’s a damn fool” and being served Old Pete’s steaming hot guts on a plate and Papa standing in the doorway lighting a cigarette, fire blazing white, and Papa saying “he’s a damn fool” and the fading of my yellow and Luce standing on the rocks and the waves crashing against the rocks and the wood breaking against the rocks and the broken bodies of the Raftmakers all strung up along the shore and the sound of the screams of the man stuck by the brambles and Luce sayin’ we’re going in and Papa standing in the doorway turning to me and saying “damn fool” and lighting a cigarette, fire blazing white.
Michael Scott Hand 