Bitter Lines

Mary

She was cold, so cold.
She could feel the eyes of the Boatman on her.
A shiver wracked her frail body.
The cold? The blank unceasing stare?
His eyes found her time and time again these days. She could welcome the final cold ride.
Her last trip.
Not now. Not, not, not now.
She moaned as she stood from her crouch in the filthy corner sheltering her from the early morning breeze. She covered her mouth as she felt the gaze of the Boatman fall upon her.
Not now.
Her limbs were stiff, numb as she left the nitch.
The sun will come soon.
The sky was graying as she prowled places people tossed empty aluminum. One can still had something in it. She sniffed and quickly poured it out, urine left by some comedian.
Setting the can on its top to drain she dug around for half of a peanut butter sandwich.
Do-gooders.
Do-gooders at the soup kitchen yesterday.
"Hi Mary." Pastor Tom had smiled at her.
She never looked at Pastor Tom in the eyes. She could see the hardness of his gangster days there. He had seen the Boatman. He had sent riders to the Boatman.
Penance by peanut butter.
A huge man was with him. A gentle giant.
In his soft eyes she could see a little boy crying.
Wanting.
"Bless you sister." The little boy giant handed her a sandwich. Her eyes slid away.
She finished the cold wad of peanut soaked bread, picked up the can, and put it in the plastic sack.
Pink wispy clouds promised the sun.
She saw the Boatman.
She heard the roar of the truck.
Two kids bounced out as the truck skidded to a stop.
She turned to run.
She felt a kick land on her thigh.
A fist broke her jaw.
A fist cracked ribs.
A baseball bat cracked her skull.
Laughter was drowned out by the roar of the truck speeding away.
The sun came.
She was cold, so cold.
The unceasing eyes of the Boatman were on her.
Now?

Life.
A powerful urge to live on. Propagation pulls us on. Immortality is in the form of offspring. Would this be so if we were immortal?
What price do we pay? Sanity?
Life.

Now?
Now the scream came from her gut.
No. I don't want to die. Not yet.
The scream jammed in her throat and vibrated through her body.

"Don't go away!" 

Her ears did not hear the voice. She knew the unearthly language. She knew the voice.

"What?"