Last Walk II"I must be going mad."
Arnold stopped in his tracks, listening to the raspy sound of dry cornstalks rustling in the wind.
He turned around and walked back to the scarecrow.
Just as he expected.
Just as he went to step away again, the voice spoke. "I've seen Hell. 90 billion souls in a lake of fire; ear-shattering screams of agony that would drive you instantly insane."
Arnold's face was a picture of slack-jawed surprise...almost to the point of idiocy as spittle ran unheeded from the corner of his mouth.
The gaunt-framed bogey man continued. "Your wife is there, right now Arnold. Right there.." The scarecrow turned his head and looked directly at the quavering old man. "Roasting in Hell."
A thin, screech came from Arnold's lips as the horror of straw began to roar laughter...almost like angry laughter, full of malevolence and insanity.
Even though he was decrepit and slow now, nevertheless there was a remnant of steel in the old man's spine. "You hush your mouth! You d
Last WalkThe cat is eating flies again.
Arnold remarked to the clock on the wall which had stopped working a long time ago.
A crisp late October wind moaned in the eaves
And water was dripping from the ceiling directly onto Arnold's placemat on the kitchen table.
But he was past caring about those things.
"Good bye, Peter." he softly told the cat as he stroked his calico fur.
Peter looked back at him with a wistful meow and resumed licking his paws.
Arnold walked over to one of the few working items left in his ramshackle house; a 1947 RCA Victrola phonograph. Slowly, carefully, he turned on the player and placed the needle on the vinyl.
He looked at the picture of his long dead wife on the wall. She was wearing the blueberry dress that day in the Sun, he thought to himself as melancholy, scratchy words spilled out of the speaker horn.
"Nights in white satin, never reaching the end,
Letters I've written, never meaning to send.
Beauty I've always missed, with these eyes before.
Just what the