Letter To The Editor

Anonymous,
Anonymous

To Whom it May Concern

It was 2012. The night was dark and stormy, atypical of most L.A evenings. I had driven my RV into the desert crotch of Acton, CA based off a Craigslist ad promising a meet up of like minded gorilla enthusiasts from all over the world.

We were to meet around the stone gorilla giant man (if you’ve been to the RV campground and have parked in the back lot beyond the broken bridge, you know what I’m talking about) at twilight where we would share our love of fried bananas and gorilla photos around a steaming, above ground, enclosed fire pit. The sound of rain drops sizzling off the hot metal echoes through my dreams.

What came after that was a series of nightmares which circularly led me down a dark tunnel of madness.

I write to you from the democratic republic of Congo where I’m barely grasping onto a hotspot from my dying phone. I’ve been abandoned by family, friends, alas... even my dog no longer recognizes me. I can type, but can’t call, as all I can produce are a series of grunting noises. I know I deserve justice.

Sincerely, A Gorilla Who Was Once a Woman

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