Eric Puchner

“She thought of the verse from Genesis she’d memorized in Sunday school, the one that had struck a gong of terror in her heart. And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. How could she still remember this, and not the word after “house” and “apple”? It wasn’t death that scared her so much as oblivion, the face of the deep, that missing word that she’d never retrieve. One after another, the words going poof. Not a sudden death, but a gradual one, an accretion of losses, one you were in denial about until it was too late, the way the ptarmigans and butterflies had vanished somehow without her even noticing. Maybe the world had it too: a memory problem. The density of its ideas was in freefall. She and the earth were in this together.”
― Eric Puchner, Dream State