The Thing


Dear Eugene,

I must write this down.  I was thinking about writing something else, but this I must chronicle.

Last night something showed up right in front of my home, on the narrow path between the house and lawn.  It looked like a dried leaf, probably wet through and desiccated many times over, I thought, over a number of years maybe, and now finally emerged from a hidden, neglected corner of life to make a statement.

To me.

It is very withered.  Barely recognizable.  In fact I named it a leaf only because I so willed it.  If I knew no leaf from before I would have called it something else.  In fact I knew many withered leaves and now upon a closer look-over I wasn't so sure anymore: the warping of the stem suggested a joint of some sort, a supporting structure beneath the surface, that as wizened, weather-beaten as it was it's not given over to brittleness, not the axil base, not the stalk, not even the remaining blade...

Well, that's cos this is no leaf at all, Alex...

I thought, I was finally quite sure, that it was the remain of a mouse, all its tasty parts enjoyed.

There's hair on the "stem," if I saw it right.  Now I can't confirm.  Because the moment I determined it's something filthy ugly disgusting and every other synonyms I just simply kicked the darn thing.  I said Getta hell outta here and I just kicked it.  I kicked it and kicked it and kicked it until it was far and away from my property and landed on the curb side with withered leaves and other fallen objects.

So was there really hair?  The fear in my heart said so and there's no need to argue anymore.  It's something to get rid of even if it was not what I thought.  If it's not helping me it has no business to get close to me.  And if it posted a tiny bit of a threat why should I take the chance when I still have the chance?  Who knows if rain is to fall upon it and rejuvenate its evilness it'll come alive again and get into my house and chew up Sumi...

That was last night.  And I was not done with it.

The Thing actually grew overnight.  Of course in my head, I knew, and I also know it is a trite expression, that fear would grow in a man's heart, and have been quite aware that I should not allow myself succumbing to such trifleness, mild human tragedy not worthy of a Charlie Brown square.

Still I searched for the Thing along the curb side, made a special trip after walking and feeding Sumi and setting my good life in habitual order, edifying motion.  That Thing is big, I said as I searched in darkness, and, for that, too close for comfort.  What if it carries Ebola?

By now, in my head, my heart, it's no longer the carcass of a mouse, but that of a giant evil rat, maybe from outer space, an ominous sign steeped in history and exerts a creative speaking power over me.

Yes, I did meet it again.  And it was much smaller than I remembered it.

Yours, Alex

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