by Chris Lewis Carter
More work by Chris can be found in 3AM Magazine, Word Riot, Murky Depths, and Nelson Literacy 8.
Read by David Michel
“It’s just after midnight when her screams wake me. Loud, panicked shrieks that slice through my sleep-fogged brain like shards of glass.
“Carl! Get down here right now! Oh my God, Carl!”
I roll out of bed and stumble over to the window. Across the cul-de-sac, I see my neighbour, Mrs. Richardson, bathed in the dull glow of a street light. She’s wearing a flower-print nightgown and has a head full of curling rollers.
“What is wrong with you? Get down!”
Nearly half-way up the light pole she’s standing beside is her husband, Carl, his arms and legs locked tightly around the wood. He’s naked, except for a bright red bathrobe, which is untied and flapping in the breeze like a terrycloth flag.
“Help! Carl! Please, someone, help!””