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House Shoe

Scott Garson

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She lost a house shoe. Did she know this already? Or was she having the realization? She looked at the other house shoe, which stood by the molding next to the door, and tried to recall, and hummed a line of tune, this in a foiled and derelict voice whose sound was liable to frighten her when it rose holding pieces of thoughts. The winter was damp. The winter was dark and long. She rose in the middle of the night when she was still dreaming and played the guitar. Days would close each afternoon in twilight simmering dim. There was often rain. Too light to be seen, too soft to be heard. Now springtime. Brilliant. She was blinking, she went out. The house shoe—was it? She crept nearer. She both could and couldn’t see. Great brown stalk, bursting through a rip between instep and sole. Ghost lilies, white, like silent bells, pulsating in light. She couldn’t see. She was having a feeling instead. Different ones together. As if they were tastes. As if they could change when combined. Outrage, glory, fear.

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Scott Garson is the author of Is That You, John Wayne?–a book of stories. His work has appeared via Story, American Short Fiction, Threepenny Review, Kenyon Review, Conjunctions, Electric Literature, and others.

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