I caught glimpses of it in the dark, something with clusters of limbs that looked like it had rolled straight out of a taxidermist's reject bin. In one paw-like hand it held the severed head of my date who was used to a more sedate kind of life, one that leaves you ill-suited to spontaneously running for your life.
As it got closer to my hiding place at the far end of the parking lot I heard it sniffling and quietly crying under its breath. The kind of crying you do under your blanket at night so all the others don't hear you, so you don't disturb the grownups who always seem to be one slight sound away from thrashing you to pieces.
I wondered if it was looking for me because it wanted to wipe out any witnesses to its existence, to make sure it remained on the edges of our knowing and not at the forefront. Some childish part of me wondered if it recognised someone else who'd spent most of their life quietly suffering while the rest of the world smiled and laughed without a single care.
In less than a blink it had found me, lowered its head to meet my frightened stare with countless death-glazed eyes and clenched the hand holding my date so hard his head split like a water balloon. I tried to get the words out to say something - acknowledge its pain and offer it kindness, beg for my life, beg for a quick death - anything.
But nothing came out in time and the last thing I saw was a group of mangled hands rushing towards me.
No comments:
Post a Comment