/yesod

Tag: son

  • danger

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in ,

    A kitchen, a house in the country — dry and dusty, very little greenery. A little boy with dark hair and a baby face sits at the kitchen table playing with an old wooden birdhouse. I see a yellowjacket crawl sluggishly over the back of the birdhouse. Inside I see the telltale paper comb covered…

  • “Hey Dad?”

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in

    Walking through the office I hear — or I think I hear — my son’s voice, very distinct and clear, call to me. I look back down the hallway but, of course, no one is there.

  • a tornado, two corpses, and a leather sofa

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in

    Inside the house, people are starting to panic. The sky outside is dark and green, the wind bending the trees to almost impossible angles. We can hear the sirens and, in a house this old, there is no safe place . . . every room has windows, the elderly frame flexes and creaks in the…

  • flames, new and old

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    by

    T.M. Camp
    in

    [This is directly transcribed, without changes or edits, from a journal entry dated June 16th, 1998] …and, somehow, in my dreams I hear a huge crash — metal and glass — ignoring it, I dream on… …a flickering light from outside — flash of orange through the blinds — send me up to the window,…