11-17-99

at night i walk by the deserted playground and seem to hear sharp laughter from the swings and slides. i quicken my pace and am afraid a gnarled old house will suddenly block my way. at times like these you consider that god may have a horrible end prepared for us. he's cooking up something nasty. maybe on one of these walks i'll have my throat slit, or shot and left to bleed into the little creek...