He had done it because he wanted to hear something dissonant and beautiful. He dipped his hand in the mug and went to the door and scattered a handful of coins on the stone path out front. There was a coffee mug on the counter with the comic strip character Cathy on it and a small chip the shape of a shark's tooth that held loose change. And not in some greater existential sense but no good with his number on it.

The feeling that whatever had happened in Kilderry Park was no good.

She emptied his backpack of items so small and modest it could hardly be considered stealing while Peter scraped the tar of sugar at the edge of the cobbler and tried to shake this feeling. 'Hummingbird!' she yelled suddenly, in response to the question What is the only bird that can fly backwards. The trailer was warm and smelled sweet, pot and baked apple. She was smoking a joint and watching a quiz show. When he got home he told his mother, 'Something happened.'

Peter did not know what it was, but something about the scene in Kilderry Park had his balls in a state of agitation. And the Swadisthana being located of course just behind the balls, he should always always trust his balls. Nicolae had always told him that he had been born with an unusually receptive Swadisthana chakra and that underneath the surfaces of things, the illusion of the illusion, there is a secret, sacred frequency of the universe and that the Swadisthana was the channel through which it would sing to you. Peter looked again but there was no more to see than a milling cluster of uniforms by the tree line and he put his hands in his pockets and went on. Old black junkie kicks it it's no more news than chance of rain tomorrow. Peter had given him a light once, but no change. There was that bum who hung out around here, an old black guy with yellow and black teeth and one dead eye that looked like a dirty marble who might not have been old, really. Probably some junkie had OD'd or something. Two of the cops combing the area by the swings he knew they'd hassled him a couple of times in that kind of obligatory cop way that, in Peter's experience, every uniform was an SS uniform. He turned his head in passing, but there was nothing more to see beyond the norm. He saw in addition to the fire truck a few cop cars and an ambulance, but no signs of wreckage. Peter, who was seventeen at the time of which I'm writing, liked accidents: modern times were just so fucking structured. He wondered if there had been an accident. Peter was walking home from the bus stop when he saw the flashing light of a fire truck up at Kilderry Park. It was nearing October and the sun was still hot, but the leaves were falling now with intention and every night was colder.

The night after the Harvest Moon, the body was discovered. But why does the pack howl when no wolf is lost? The lone wolf howls to rejoin the pack from which he is separated.

Hemlock grove by brian mcgreevy