The Noise at the End of the World

Jeffrey Field on 2017-11-08


November, 1978. Dylan sees Christ in Tucson, Arizona. Christ doesn’t see Dylan in Tucson, Arizona. Elephants on fire. The seal broken. Plague returns.

Last Sunday, November 5, around 7:30 in the morning, before the killing began, while walking Slider and Sophie along the canals that carry water from the Rio Grande to my neighbors’ chile fields, I notice a blue Ford Focus sitting at the intersection of Highway 187 and Two Counties Road.

Abandoned? I’m too far away. I keep walking. The car doesn’t move. I reach Two Counties Road. Normally I walk right but now I go left, crossing the highway. The dogs pull me to the car. A young woman at the wheel. Seems distracted. Hands fiddling with something in her lap.

“Do you know you’re sitting in the middle of the road on a Sunday morning?”

She glances at the sign pointing to the Church of San Isidro.

“I’m looking for a church.”

She’s lying. Hands still with the fiddling. I step back. Wary.

“Drive to the next intersection, that’s Loma Parda Road, turn left, the church will be on the right about a mile down the road.”

She drives off, crossing the highway, traveling west on Two Counties Road.

Something is not right.

The Sutherland Springs Church.

The Lord is my shepherd.

The day before I was about to rinse out the dogs’ water bowl when I noticed two tiny gnats floating on the water’s surface. One of the gnats was alive, the other was still. I gently removed both and placed them on the window sill. When I returned later both were gone.

Something is not right.

November, 1978. Dylan sees Christ in Tucson, Arizona. Christ sees Dylan in Tucson, Arizona. The bottle broken, water drowns the world as tarnished knights roam the land.