Motherly Instinct

Motherly Instinct Mother and daughter, 35 and 13. Public transportation, their carriage pulls in. Mom drops her matches, quickly picking them up. Stepping on the bus, the mom senses the hunt, as wolves seethe and inhale the scent of young prey. Aging wings are beautiful, yet stretch not far enough to shelter her young from the burning lasers leering holes through her daughters tan perfect skin. Mother stares with a purpose, intent to offend. Calling out the most savage of the grinding javelina, spitting fatal venom across the bus at the savages.., her daughter phone-stricken, oblivious... The bus approaches their stop, the mother hisses and strikes, She scoops up her young, shielding her from the putrid stench of raw split-hooved perversion. In her purse a flask of cheap liquor store gin. Casually pouring from her hand to the floor leaving a trail as they step out the door. The sidewalk is the home of the next match that she lights- inferno ignites the domino game. Onto the bus the intention made known as their flaming faces melt into clay down into their pants, leaving puddles of burnt tongues and hair on the seats. The mother laughs in revenge, but the dream is cut short. “ Mom, this is our stop. How can you sleep on the bus?” They exit the bus, she tries to regroup “ Mom, you dropped your matches….again”