Sunday, February 3, 2008

Treads of A Murder


In the cloak of darkness the heart pounded detrimentally inside her chest, as if insistent on immediate release; while perspiration dripped from numerous sweat glands she never knew her flesh had. Suddenly, the body she was hauling tumbled to the ground and descended along a steep hill. Panicky, she ran toward the already rotting carcass. In the hurried course her high heels broke as she toppled onto the mossy wet leafed ground, tasting dirt from her moist glossy lips. Her nose was within a few inches of the cadaver, the stench reeked with a combination of dumpster garbage and human sewage waste. Sickeningly nauseated she some how managed to rise, brushing the earths remnants from herself with her now bloodily scratched hands. Then, as if without any forethought whatsoever; she grasped the stiff body and lugged it toward a nearby river bank. Briefly, as if to catch a breath; she sat on the moist ground surrounded by the night. Her fleeting thoughts interrupted abruptly to realize she had not brought a shovel. Frantically she looked around in the moonlight. Broken twigs were scattered amidst the thickening, as she hurriedly threw them aside to at last find a short broken, rigid tree limb. She began to dig furiously right there beneath her feet, until the depth was sufficient. By now the crack of dawn was awakening, worn out she clasped the foul body, dragging it inside the hole. Her bare, scuffed raw hands clumping dirt rapidly over the grave. Content with her undertaking, she staggered toward the river. Achingly she knelt down to fling the icy water onto herself, simultaneously seeming to cleanse some of the filth from her skin and mind. Exhausted, she began the journey toward the hill top where her car was parked. Finally she arrived, fumbling with keys until the door unlocked, she climbed inside. Idle, hands on the wheel; she reflected on the nights’ escapade. If only someone had driven a little slower, perhaps none of this would have happened. Or if someone merely attended to the matter themselves when the incident occurred, than maybe she would not had to taken care of the dreadful situation. For as her bumper sticker states, 'God Bless the animals that cross to and fro, for they know not which way to go'.

By © - Jeane Michelle Culp

Originally posted on Binding Ink

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6 Comments:

Jos said...

Awwtch - now that's a couple of images that will stay with me for a while...
Good stuff, Michelle!

ndpthepoetress - Jeane Michelle Culp said...

Thanks Jos! Sometimes, we have to look out for the animals :)

mauniejames said...

Sad but great piece...humm I kind of hoped it was an errent hubby..but a poor animal...now that is truly sad....

ndpthepoetress - Jeane Michelle Culp said...

Aren’t we the humorous morbid one Maunie :) Perhaps the tail, I mean tale will continue! BTW: Any particular reason why a hubby :) - lol

Ann said...

You had me going Michelle...great post~

Ann

ndpthepoetress - Jeane Michelle Culp said...

Thank You Ann! Much appreciated :)