The Rabbits of the Underworld Find Innovation Distasteful
The rabbits of the underworld find innovation distasteful. I wanted to paint my little house green, but their HOA bullshit was all about cramping my style. They value uniformity among the dead. All of our houses are sand-colored.
It looks much like a regular topside subdivision here, except the sky. No sun like a burning hole. None of that bowl of stars shit. Just solid rock. Cave walls at the horizon. The biggest handprints you’ve ever seen. Our red ochre breath makes the handprints of gods.
The rabbits are watching us always. They hunch on the lawns and brandish slanted black eyes. They’re not much into conversation. Mostly, we receive strongly worded pamphlets in our mailboxes. They address us as comrades, but as far as I can tell that does not inspire a popular sentiment of solidarity. On Thursdays they send poetry, though.
The streets are clean with quiet. The dead enjoy tabletop games and other indoor activities. As a demographic, we view a lot of reality television, but that’s never been my thing. I tend my mushrooms. I nap. I watch back.
The rabbits don’t give off a vibe of curiosity at all. And I always thought of rabbits as anxious, but here they are not. They move deliberately. They nibble with relaxed menace. They do not outnumber us, but they are the ones with the mimeograph machine.
Anna Lea Jancewicz homeschools her children and haunts the public library. She is an editor for Cease, Cows and her writing has appeared or is forthcoming at the Barrelhouse blog, Hobart, Necessary Fiction, Sundog Lit, Wigleaf, and many other venues. Her flash fiction “Marriage” was chosen for The Best Small Fictions 2015. Say it: Yahnt-SEV-ich. More at annajancewicz.com
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(Picture by Hieronymus Bosch)