Free Castles by Benjamin X Wretlind

they did the first time we made love. Was he nervous about something?
    I'm never sure of what dreams are supposed to tell us. They come at the worst of times, more likely than not the result of our subconscious mind attempting to resolve the events of the day. At other times, though, they reach into our past and pull out bits and pieces of memory, mix them together with sour milk and acrid fluid, then pour it out like a soothsayer might pour out tea from a cup. What we are left with is a message to read in the rotten chunks of our lives.
    I looked up at Michael and watched his mouth move. He spoke words in a language I thought I understood, but nothing seemed to make sense. He was animated, his arms moving in response to whatever he said, his expression one of fear and condemnation. I wrapped my arms around my naked self and pushed my back against the Bus, afraid of what he was going to do.
    The Bus shook and I woke up to screams from the back. I remember vividly looking out at the dust blowing by the windshield and knowing —without any doubt—what made the noise behind me. I was afraid to look, to confirm my belief in something I'd only recently come to accept.
    I turned slowly. The screams mixed together with sounds of sucking and biting and chewing, at the same time in unison and apart. My heart beat rapidly, my breath ragged.
    The dust outside created a veil over the Bus. So little light penetrated the windows and those that were broken only invited the dust inside. I choked and covered my face as the Bus rocked in the ensuing chaos outside. Despite the dim light, however, I could see them: thousands of eels swarmed over something on the middle of the floor. The eels writhed together, and their long tails whipped back and forth, as they bit into whatever it was they ate. And ate they did, ripping off bits of . . . of . . .
    It wasn't there before I fell asleep; I'd checked once for sanity's sake. The back of the Bus was free of any body, animal or otherwise. Had someone come inside while I was passed out in the front seat? Did the storm leave a meal for the creatures?
    I reached for the door handle and stopped. There is a need for us to gaze on death so that we may, in retrospect, feel better about our own mortality. Even if that death is as gruesome as what plays on the television set or is dramatized in the movies, it's the message it imparts we must understand.
    I needed to see that death for myself.
    I turned back. Some of the eels moved around a piece of flesh. I could see the dark blood, hear the sucking, smell sulfur within the dust. There, attached to the mouth of one of the eels, was the fabric of Michael's pajamas.
    I screamed and sat petrified at the sight. One of the eels slipped off the body and floated in the air in front of me. It looked at me with translucent teeth spotted with blood. It's empty sockets bore into me.
    " I told you to cut out his tongue, Maggie. " Grandma's voice, sharp and clear, punctured the howl of the wind. " You let God clean up the mess. "
    I pushed on the door and fell out of the Bus. Grains of sand filled my mouth as I righted myself and stood up. I had to get out of there.
    I ran, but I'm not sure if I ever looked back.

5
     
    The dust storm passed, and I stood outside the fence to the trailer park. Mama didn't want me back in the house, and I refused to return to the Bus for shelter. I knew once the wind died down, the dust eels would go away. Still, I wasn't ready to face Michael's body, ripped apart by something I didn't understand.
    Was this what happened to the body we found in the Bus years ago? Did the wind come and clean up the mess?
    If that was the case, whose body was it?
    The night sky was streaked with clouds left over from the thunderstorms, and stars poked through. Grandma told me once that stars were holes in the black blanket of sin that covered the world. The light we see is what comes from Heaven, reminding us of our destination. I often wondered if my castle