The Walk
Mike Schufer
Twisted half-way around and bent backward he was, maybe it was a she, its impossible to tell. "Jesus" said Jim, "anything in that position has gotta be dead or at the least a yoga master." He's always had a sick sense of humor, but I suppose that happens after years of seeing grotesque horrors.
Across the distance the low roar of sirens and lights breaks up the stillness of the early dusk. Photographers, police, newspaper reporters, fire engines, coroner; they roll in, like the calvary to back up Custer only to find they're too late to help, now all they can do is clean up the mess. The spectators come too; like disease and famine to the poor. The sight of blood, agony, and death seems to draw them like flies. They see the body and gasp in horror, hold their hand over their eyes with just enought space between their fingers to see. People are sick and they love to see that which makes them so. "The coroner gets the body now", Jim says. "Hell you should of seen the trouble we had trying to get that thing into that bag, we tried to untwist it's. . ." "Its QK. Jim, I really don't need the details right now." "We're done with ya for now" the detective said, "but you need to be in court if a trial ever arises."
I started walking, leaving behind me the lights, the flies, and the chaos; just trying to enjoy the silence of night. I started my walk this evening content in going to no particular destination. Just walking among the orchards that run along the railroad tracks, going maybe going forever.
|
