November 5th, 1994 I dont know how many days its been. The trees dont tell time. The sky lies. Maybe three weeks. Maybe thirty years. Maybe I died already and this is the punishment. The stump hurts less now. Thats what scares me. I can see the bone sometimes when I change the bandages. White like church walls. White like angels. White like HER. No. HIM. IT. The BOVINE. I seen it again today. At least I think I did. Black shape between the pines. Too tall. Too many legs. Not enough legs. The shape changes every time I look. Like trying to count smoke. I heard the bells again last night. No churches for fifty miles. WHO RINGS THE BELLS? The cow does. The messenger. The HERALD. God sends angels, dont He? Maybe this is just what angels actually look like when your eyes arent protected. The Bible says angels made people afraid. Nobody ever writes THAT part on the greeting cards. Maybe because they saw things like it. Maybe cows are holy. Maybe we got it backwards. Maybe thats why they stare. Always staring. Watching. Waiting. Judging. I FOUND WRITING IN THE CAVE WALL THIS MORNING. I dont remember writing it. It said: "HE WALKS ON SPLIT HOOF AND CARRIES THE WORD" My handwriting. I think. Maybe. I dont remember. There was more but I scratched it out because it wouldnt stop MOVING. I think the creature is trying to tell me something. Everywhere I go theres signs. Dead deer with missing eyes. Clouds shaped like horns. The moon split in half by branches. Three crows. Then three more. Then three more. 3 3 3 Not six. Not nine. THREE. Father Son Holy Spirt. Father Son Holy Spirit. Father Son Holy Spirt. spirt spirt spirt The words dont look right anymore. I caught myself talking to my missing arm today. Thought it was sitting beside me. Thought it answered. I asked if God loved me. It laughed. I dont remember falling asleep but I woke up outside the cave. Something had dragged me. Or I walked. Or maybe the earth moved. Theres hoofprints outside. Big ones. Deep ones. The ground was frozen. How do hoofprints sink into frozen dirt? How? HOW? I followed them. I shouldnt have. I know that now. They led to a clearing. And in the middle was a dead oak tree. Covered in scratches. Hundreds of scratches. Like someone trying to count. Or remember. Or warn. At the base of the tree someone had carved: LISTEN I didnt stay. I ran. I ran until my lungs felt full of broken glass. I swear I heard breathing behind me. Slow. Patient. Not hunting. Waiting. Watching. Teaching. I think thats what it wants. Not my body. My attention. Maybe the arm was tuition. Maybe God requires payment. Abraham had Isaac. I had an arm. Fair trade. Fair trade. Fair trade. I can hear it outside now. The bells again. The bells and the breathing. The breathing and the bells. If I dont write tomorrow then maybe I finally understood the message. Or maybe the messenger understood me. I think I can see horns at the cave entrance. No. Not horns. Haloes. No. Horns. No. God forgive me. God forgive me. God forgiv me. God forg HE IS HERE
☆ ahaha right on little lady☆