December 7, 2011

Randall Brown

 
Chorus


They flooded the valley and made the lake, left the houses intact, not knowing, hidden in the cellar, tied to the supporting pole as if to the mast was my grandfather. They didn't know what he said until it bubbled to the surface amid the motorboats, lake houses, water-skiers, jet skis, until it died under that endless roar.

Sha la la la la la la la.
Sha la la la la la la la.
Sha la la la la la la la.

In the walls of my father's apartment, they discovered nothing but millions of pellet holes. Him, they found wandering in the back parking lot. No one was there, they told him. But he didn't believe. He saw disembodiment, limbs afloat. The shotgun, tapping like a cane, sounding like a song. He raised it. There was nothing else they could do.

Sha la la la la la la la.
Sha la la la la la la la.
Sha la la la la la la la.

Every night, starting at seven, my son cried. He said he could not live with knowing he'd awake one day to death, with not knowing what happens during sleep. I told him he wasn't missing much. One night, we stayed up all night, waiting. The night could barely be heard, like a faraway past. Near dawn, they turned on all the sprinklers. Now I know,
he said.

Sha la la la la la la la.
Sha la la la la la la la.
Sha la la la la la la la.

Each day, after the stroke, fewer words become available. Finally, only "stroke" remains. An image of a boat, its wake like time, its prow pointed toward the end of the world. As the boat makes its soundless way forward, a tiny, damp hand strokes a father's cheek. A son hums a tiny song through that endless roar, beyond that nothing else they could do. Now I know, he says. The world gets washed.

CP

Randall Brown is the author of the award-winning flash fiction collection Mad to Live. He teaches at and directs Rosemont College's MFA in Creative Writing Program. His short and very short fiction has been published widely, and his essay "Making Flash Count" appears in The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Writing Flash Fiction: Tips from Editors, Teachers, and Writers in the Field. He founded and currently manages Matter Press and its Journal of Compressed Creative Arts.

3 comments:

Petur HK said...

Brilliant. Almost closed the page and went to bed. It's late now, really late, but I couldn't care less. Thank you. 'Endless roar' -- beautiful.

Annam said...

"The world gets washed." Love that last line.

Anonymous said...

I would hardly consider this piece "brilliant." In fact, I'd be very careful using that word to describe writing of this caliber. You'll throw would be readers off. Especially when they find out what brilliance is: Kafka, Larry Brown, Barry Hannah, Carver, etc.