The tiny silver dew drops slid across the golden Orb spiders’ web like liquid mercury flowing down an invisible pipe, the insect an eight armed plumber orchestrating the flow of each drop as it deftly walks across the silken truss. All this beauty is caught as the morning’s ray’s glide seamlessly through the glade of trees and the stifled movement of the attached leaves dancing shadows in its wake, almost inducing strobe light unease.
The silent scream that would never be heard from the now mortis glistening blue lips of the naked corpse sitting under the giant oak tree, a damning edifice of evil and defilement in this most beautiful of resting places. Ugly shades of blue and grey mottled skin defaced the magnificent shades of autumn greens and subtle browns, with a trail of foliage destruction formed by the murderous tyres of a vehicle that so callously dumped the lifeless mannequin in its final resting place. Wounds and damage to the body were instantly evident by the movement of insects, in and out of both natural and unnatural orifices. The coagulated dark red-black of blood and excreta now a haven for flies and crawling creatures from far away all doing their jobs to remove all traces of the expired physical biological form.
The fingers clawed into the shape of a leafless tree branch reaching for an unknown assailant, and mousy blond hair that mirrored that of a scurrying wood-nymph with twigs and leaves strewn at random to offer a hint of camouflage as she ran the forest floor. The twisted visage of the mouth agape with multiple invaders moving in and out seemed to take on voice as a silence shattering scream left seventeen year old camper Tracy Livingston’s vocal chords that voided the surrounding area of any and all bird and wild life.
Six years later
Tonya Harding was returning home from a totally unfulfilling day of work at her secretarial job in the inner workings of downtown Manhattan, fumes, dirt and a mixture of daily city grime clung to her skin and clothing and gave her the scent of a homeless mans jacket. Opening her red leather handbag she removed her keys and slid the metal inside the opening with little trouble engaging the tumblers and allowing the mechanism to offer her respite in her own inner sanctum of security and warmth.
The figure was upon her before she even fully closed the door behind her in a flurry of arms and yelling an inaudible barrage of linked words that made little or no sense to her disrupted senses.
‘Tonya, you have to help me.....please you have to let me stay here with you someone knows, someone knows’ the urgent and strangled voice of Rob Jenkins bellowed in her ear as her instincts came to play and she lifted her right knee and her left palm to meet two impact points in quick unison, one to the groin and the other under his chin that sent him spiralling backward and away from the frightened woman.
‘Rob, what the fuck are you doing in my flat? And more to the point how did you get in here?’ she screamed at him through the pain in her hand and her stammering heart trying its hardest to recover. The gasping form of the slight and underweight man who lay before her looked scared and pathetic, and as Tonya tried to remember the last time she laid eyes on Rob the door bell rang. ‘You stay there’ she said as she pointed to the prostrate Rob’
Tonya walked the short distance to the door and opened it on the chain. Peering out there was no-one to be seen demanding a signature but a cooler box was lying in front of her door. Opening the door she picked up the large foam container and walked it inside the hall way of her apartment past the still prostrate Rob who now was crying and whispering the words ‘no,no,no,no,no’ to himself and holding his hands up in front of his face. ‘What is your problem Rob; grow some balls will you for god’s sake.’ She said as she walked past him placing the cool container on the kitchen bench top. She admired the pack for its simplicity and then noticed there was no visible address or markings, and decided to peel the tape from around the lid and base. Snivelling Rob lifted his legs and placed his knees under his chin as he sat on the cold ceramic tiled floor, white spirals of colour and shape mesmerised his thoughts as he knew what was in the box and did not want to see.
The sound of foam on foam was always a problem for Tonya and her teeth buzzed with electricity as she lifted the lid and as the fog of dried ice hitting the moist air of her apartment lifted she made out the shape of a human arm, with a solid gold signet ring on it with a large black stone set in white gold. The word ‘Richard’ left her mouth in whisper mere milliseconds before her lunch followed and a warm stream of projectile vomit across the floor and bench. She looked at Rob who was now visibly crying and sobbing uncontrollably and then back to the appendage, seeing the Dragon and Koi fish tattoo.
“Fuck” was the only word that followed!
© Copyright 2016 Ian Dawn. All rights reserved.
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