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Just Another Day At The Farm

Short story By: BulletofCorruption
Flash fiction



Canines hunting,
dysfunctional units.
A farm of psychopaths,
and art.

*He was designing the pattern on her back by the body's natural process of lividity. Which is when stagnate blood pools at the lowest point on the body.*


Submitted:Oct 17, 2010    Reads: 85    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


Just Another Day At The Farm
Canine's barking clouded the air around the dense forest. Footsteps and staccato yells each resembling a command. They where searching.
Cautiously I weaved in between the fallen branches, and large oak corpses. Suspense hung heavy in the misty sky. Cat and mouse.
The beasts had picked up on one of many trails. A unconscious gamble, did the die treat them right? A team of five broke off from the mass. Their intimidating footfalls and thuds of paws scampered off into the west. They found a trail all right, of an amateur.
I couldn't refrain from the noiseless chuckle that escaped from my lips. It was to entertaining, to surreal. I edged along the four hundred foot radius, walking a invisible perimeter.
The canines went into a frenzy again. Yapping like crazy and growling amongst each other. Sharp barks emanated from the hounds and deep snarls. Their handlers where yelling at their respective dogs.
The search team's methodical grid search plan disappeared with a ruckus into the setting sun. Their canines had failed. The dysfunctional unit shamefully fled the hollow land, much like the hounds; tails between their knees.
I stretched out and climbed from my perch about midway up a maple tree. From the high vantage I saw them disperse off into shiny black vans. Walking back to the farm I saw the others all standing anxiously in the thickets. Their eyes shone of questioning and worry.
With a small gesture, a swat of the hand they silently looked amongst each other and went back into the barn. The sun was almost completely hidden, the air was chilled. Before heading to the barn along with the others I made a quick detour.
Smiling I looked down upon her, right where I had left her early. Her body sprawled out on top of the rod iron design. Leaning over I carefully examined my handiwork, faint pale lines decorated her frail skin. Almost done. With one final glance I turned and jogged off to the barn.
Just another at the body farm.





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