Covered blanketed face, Holy Mother, cowering bedside hide. I stood with uncalloused palm on the sweat of her skin, my breath chilling in the air, everything a shade of earthen brown, termite wooden walls and uprooted flooring, an iron post bed, brick paint chipped, one frosted window with florescent light outside. I did not know it was her... beneath gray wool and blue mortified eyes. Recurrence of the spectre beforehand, previous to placement. "I will gut her. You will witness my miracle." I thought the expanding red spots on the lily-white bed clothes to be cherry stains... or I wanted them to be such. That would have saved me from the hooked tip of the hunting knife, forcing through the sternum from the back. Oh shrouded Death, nary even a salvitating smirk to be seen, brandishing a convenient modern scythe. And yet we were dead before the lungs were even punctured, before the ribs cracked and the vertebrae twisted and split.
...forcing through the sternum from the back. Oh shrouded Death, nary even a salvitating smirk to be seen, brandishing a convenient modern scythe. And yet we were dead before the lungs were even punctured, before the ribs cracked and the vertebrae twisted and split.
...an iron post bed, brick paint chipped, one frosted window with florescent light outside. I did not know it was her... beneath gray wool and blue mortified eyes. Recurrence of the spectre beforehand...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
