arc d’x, cont’d

“So when he heard there was a man who claimed the tattoos on his body were changing, Wade didn’t entirely discount it.  Tonight, stumbling down the dark alley without any other light, he searched for the graffiti by lighting one match after another and tossing them away as they singed his fingers.  The last message had been the rather vague and irritating THE RETURN OF THE QUEEN OF WANDS.  It seemed urgent to Wade not to miss whatever the graffiti might say today of all days; he found the corner and was down to his last match.  He struck the match and held it up to the wall, and was immediately disappointed by the most innocuous and meaningless bulletin yet.
“You’re running out of ideas, my man,” Wade muttered out loud.  In his dismay he forgot about the burning match, crying out when it reached his fingertips and flicking it in the air where it fell like a dead firefly.”

steve erickson


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