From the roof of his house, Andrew can see everything in the town of
Pandora. Right below is his yard of wispy yellow grass that breaks at
the touch. A little ways down is the dead creek, a stinking, mucky
place. And above him, always, is the hand of God. Briefly, he trains
his flashlight on the underside of the hand, studying the lined,
grayish flesh. Then he stares back toward the outskirts of town,
peering through his binoculars at the mushroom farmer’s trailer.
The farmer makes a drug. Andrew’s not supposed to know about the drug,
and he certainly isn’t supposed to take it. But the farmer’s daughter
goes to school with all the other kids, so word gets around. He must
have mixed a new batch. The townspeople are lined up all the way back
to the old Sunoco station, their headlamps making a broken ant trail
in the ever-present dusk.
Rated R for drug use, disturbing imagery.