Crows of Imagination — a short story by David M. Marek

Once I was feeling out of sorts, edgy, 
persona non grata, so I stopped what I 
was doing--nothing of importance--and 
thought back to another version of me.  
Soon as I was backtracking years and 
years, to--it makes no difference how 
many years, nor where I was bound--
retreating to another era.  Putting 
aside childish maps, I slipped away.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band 
had just come out and the monster that 
was Dallas, Texas, all at once seemed 
to dress in flashy colors of red, orange 
and green, as if showing off its Spring 
line, having turned its back on post-war 
drabness, and sprouted "miles and miles" 
of concrete rivers--beige and grey for 
contrast--all conveying rainbow fishes 
like cars, but more like fishes--to other 
rivers, ultimately to square holding ponds 
where the fish/cars would stop to spill 
their contents.

In this way the family of five eagerly 
crossed the sizzling hot parking lot to 
Six Flags Over Texas...


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