THE GAME

Sometimes I had this really strong feeling when I was a kid that

it was all a game—like we were pieces in this big game, being

played by really big powerful other organisms—the feeling was I

guess what people would call God—but more like a bunch of gods—

I say a bunch of gods because it felt not like there was one mind

thinking out everything that’s happening here on earth—more it felt like

there are many smaller minds—of course each really powerful—but

smaller than one big god would be—so all these smaller powers are

out there and in severe conflict trying to control the game—this planet

that is amusing for them but of course has all the crappy things of life

on earth in store for us—the pain the blood the rape—well I

don’t know—obviously I have no idea what is actually going on

but I do know I sure had that feeling a lot—I don’t get it as much

now that I’m older—only now and then—but only when I’m

in one of those times in my life where everything is totally crazy

and nothing is normal or the way it should be—at those times I get

the feeling that I’m being played and there are battles going on

between big powerful beings that don’t like each other and

we humans are the weapons they fight with.

One time I told my grandfather about this feeling—I was about ten—

he sat me on his knee and said, Now I want you to say again to me

what you just said so I’m sure I understand you—I told him again—

he hit me hard—he gave me a quick choke and held my ear to open it wide

so it would hear everything he was going to say—he said that if he knew

one thing, he knew I’d been reading a book I shouldn’t have or

watching some bad TV—he said to forget the whole idea because it

was a lie—I promised to forget it—but in some ways I swear I got the

“game” feeling more and more and stronger after he got so mad—it kept

bubbling up all my childhood years—that’s something I’ve noticed about

anger, that when someone gets mad at you for doing something, you

think about whatever the something was—a lot—and you want to

do it again—and again—because it might get rid of the anger if

you do—so secretly in my room at night it felt good to think maybe

indeed there are huge powerful beings controlling us smaller ones

for their secret purposes—like it made my grandfather’s power

small and he could dry up and blow away—although of course there’s

always the other side of things—he did some really nice things for me

and actually left me a bit of money when he kicked the bucket.

Andrew Foster writes poetry and prose, but he also makes YouTube video art under the alias Wes Civilz. He has a story titled “Black Friday Sales Event Master” forthcoming in Accenti magazine, and is currently at work on a memoir about lust. He lives next to a dope cactus in dusty Tucson, Arizona.