Tuesday, 12 November 2013

The finding of the thing.

Its face, reflecting the light, swallowed itself in shadow. Cheeks sunken. The eyes like caves. The nose, two gaping holes. Its mouth sewn shut, least let it tell the world its secrets. Its dark, sinister secrets. Loneliness. Hatred. Fear. Intrusive thoughts bind malign alike. The black suit, ripped and decaying, swaddled the thing as if it were a dead baby, hung on this tree like a Christmas decoration.
I took out my phone.

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