Celeste knew from the birth of her death, that the family she had been born in to; the home where she had laid in her coffin, was a place of hiding.
Hide in the room. Run. Hide. Hide in the garbage can. The big man was on his way and a wide path had to be cleared.
When she moved to the pines, things changed. She had been brought to a land of violence, and money. Money Money Money.
The Skinny Boy called her from the desert. In a gravelly voice he abrasively, threatened Celeste.
There seemed to be a problem as to who f*cked who. Now, normally it was a matter of who shot who.
“Don’t you be starting rumors.” He threatened.
Then he carried on about his family. Never mind his own moral inventory.
Celeste thought to herself. And then she thought some. More.
One life, born into death.
In the background she could hear his wife. The 1/8 – Of the purple robes.
Celeste laughed.
What else is there to do?
