1993 (what was once titled Futherest From)

Everything is gray because no one knows any other color now. No one knows anything. Kids write dead things in chalk on the shoulders of the bus seats, but the chalk ghosts go and go away like the snow-gray boring. No one can read them. It's 1993. The weird year. I would call it the weird year for years and years to come. Goblins surround the face of the house, smother the chimney nostrils, clogs the windows like swaps in our ears. Hear them? Devon? Brother smoking dope and vodka heaven. Protect me. The wordless world around us. Protect me. What the hell do they know? Winter does swallow the house. Dead gray dead and the land.

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Derry, New Hampshire, 1993.

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Devon is a monster. I want to be just like him.

Before:

http://secondarysound.blogspot.com/2009/11/from-furtherest-from-working-title.html