Dead body.
He was stabbed to death.
Once. In the stomach.
The knife still rested inside the folds of the soft flesh.
Blood splattered all over.
A set of feet stumbled upon the dead body.
The feet belonged to a powerful person.
The gleaming knife and the lifelessness caught her attention.
A devilish smile appeared on her face.
She pulled the knife out. Almost to give some life to the dead. Maybe some dignity.
After a pause, she stabbed the knife yet again. As if to reiterate death. To reiterate to herself that the person was indeed dead.
She walked off. A few metres later, she came back.
Maybe in remorse? Maybe to finally grant some dignity to the lifeless (person)?
She looked through the gleaming knife yet again.
She pulled the knife out. Almost to give some life to the dead. Maybe some dignity.
After a pause, she stabbed the knife yet again. As if to reiterate the loss of dignity. To reiterate to herself that the person had indeed lost dignity.
She wanted to walk off. And yet found the beauty inside the dead still disturbing.
She stomped off the listless face with her foot. Ground the dead face with the heel.
Even mother earth could not take the impact. She swallowed the dead into her warm womb.
Away from the heels. Away from the feet. Away from the hands. Away from the knives. Away from human beings.
What did it matter? The hug was too late. A soul wept and cringed in shame. It was naked. And wondered. And then wandered in it's long and lonely journey. With a shamed history.
The car?? It was parked in the shed.
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