Going Haywire: A Review

Darkness. It’s what we crave, what we need, and what we cannot turn away. Dive deep into the human soul, hunting for perfection, but what we find is flawed. No silver lining but darkness. We twist, and we turn in the corners of our mind, cut on jagged edges, and we find the other side, where nightmares lie, our darkness. And if we snap, connect, what if we go Haywire?

There is no ordinary life. We walk that fine line, thinking time will last, but in a flash, everything is gone. The ordinary is as quiet as the dead walking, and there is no rest for the wicked. What dreams may come are dreams forever gone, and the roads are now left bleeding. We yearn, we cry, and we beg for the ordinary life to return, but there is no going back now. And they are coming.

I’m held prisoner inside my own home. She clawed at the ground, digging for its heart, but what she might find is mine, if I dare to step outside. Help, but help was cut short, buried under red. There’s no escape. No light to break darkness. No prayer to erase pain, but nightmares to engulf dreams. And she digs, waiting patiently for me to step out onto her lawn.

He knocks on the door. Delivery, but deliver me from here. I did not see, and I will not see again. The sun has gone in a brilliant flash, and the world has been lost. Snap, connect, Haywired, and they are running rampant, tearing down the streets. And he is the last one for me to see.

I want the ordinary life, so does the mother, lost to her son. There is no going back. We were thrilled and chilled with the Resident Evil, The Walking Dead, and the Nights of the Living Dead. It was just television, but now we are living fiction in this small town that has held me still. And my life is far from ordinary but gone forever into the mist, forever to dangle along the edge of darkness in dream catchers, and drown me into insomnia. Tommyknockers, Tommyknockers, knocking at my door, make me Haywire, so I live no more.

And I live as them. Snap, connect, Haywired. It burns. I cough. I drank the Kool-Aid, and he speaks to me. Searchers, and we search. We don’t say good-bye but hello. Hello to the world left behind, going Haywire, a hot new taste of Horror/Sci-Fi tearing at the seams of the small heart of country that I call Monroe, my home.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *