The Family Tree
The tree’s ancient limbs branch out like roads to several different worlds.
It is, in a way, a birthright… the way to the promised place.
“You found them yet?” I’d ask Mutt every day.
My brother would shake his head, gangrenous tongue hanging from his mangled jaw.
Then he’d crawl back up, trying a new route… disappearing within the tree’s barbaric upside-down beard.
“I found it.” Mutt’s perpetually decomposing head sprouts from the tangles. “Ma and Pa were there.”
I grab the rope—same one that Ma, Pa and Mutt used– and slip my head into the noose.
HAVE A GREAT 2014 everyone I’ve gotten so used to the holidays and I’m having a hard time letting go. lol
PPS. with the picture, i know how easy it is to mistake Mutt for a dog so i made a couple of edits since posting this story xo