Blight

By Rich Ristow

Floyd Cervenka has issues. He's lost his health insurance, he's hallucinating, and the bank wants to foreclose on his home. To make matters worse, he's finding and dreaming about severed body parts, and limbless ghosts are haunting him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rich Ristow
• Release date: Jun 1, 2011

Rich Ristow

Former Rhysling Award winner for poetry. Editor at Needfire Poetry. MFA in creative writing from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington. Books include Wood Life: A Poem, Death in Common: Poems From Unlikely Victims, Four Murders, and Into The Cruel Sea (Out Of Print).

Book preview

Blight

By Rich Ristow

Copyright 2011 Rich Ristow

Cover Copyright 2011 Rich Ristow

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. All sexual content described is intended as fiction representing consenting adults over the age of 18.. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Blight

Prologue

There were five men in tuxedos sitting in the front row, and Floyd Cervenka thought that was strange for a town hall meeting. The back of their heads looked exactly the same: jet black hair, combed straight and greased down. Besides those men, there was the usual smattering of senior citizens – all of whom had fallen asleep already. This week, however, he realized he was the only journalist in attendance. He sat there, pen poised, ready, and pointed at a blank page in his composition book.

Only, Floyd had nothing to write, at first. Monmouthside Height’s town hall meetings were banal to begin with. Mayor George Gurley spent most of the time talking vapidly about a being a friend of business and how Conservative times needed conservative solutions. Floyd gritted his teeth and raised his hand.

Mayor Gurley just scowled at him for a moment. What?

Floyd tapped his pen against his blank page. He held up a thick packet of new ordinances. So let me get this straight. You’re going to raise property taxes, cut the funding for the library, defund the free clinic, and give hefty rebates to the real estate management industry?

No. Gurley’s scowled deepened. Those are austerity measures, and I’m creating a business capital incentive…

Bullshit.

All industries. Realty is just one …

And doesn’t the Gurley family own about a third of this town, anyway? So that means, by raising my property taxes, your family is going to pocket…

That is uncalled for. I could sue you for slander.

Floyd grinned. He looked at the small group of sleeping senior citizens snoring around him. "Go ahead. Do it. Imagine the headlines: Slumlord Sues Local Whistle Blower. Certainly would call some attention to Gurley & Sons, Inc."

Mayor Gurley turned to the five men in tuxedos seated up front. The whole time, none of them turned to face Floyd. Pay no attention to him. He’s just a local whack job. He turned back to face Floyd, again. One who’s had a very long history of delusional mania—like the time he thought aliens had infiltrated our school board. He picketed for weeks on that one. Plus, there was the time he was caught masturbating in the…

Fucking hell, Floyd said. You’re going to bring that up?

Why not? Plus, three years ago, you once claimed inter-dimensional aliens took over the Monmouthside Republican Party.

Yeah? And?

You are just a crazy liberal. Like other crazy liberals. You were sued for unjust defamation.

That’s not important. You’re clearly trying to…

Have you taken your medications today?

Yes. But that’s none of your damn business. I asked a legit news question. Bringing up my mental health history is skirting the question. Floyd tapped his pen against his composition book again. So, answer me. How much of my property taxes will go into your family’s pocket?

Mayor Gurley’s face flushed deep red. How do you expect to revitalize this shithole of a town, if I can’t raise capital to…

Ah, Floyd stood from his metal fold up chair. You’re not denying it. Wonderful. He made his way to the back of the hall, but before leaving, he stopped and turned around. "One thing. Who are