An Eye Half Open

We are all so frivolous.

The apathy of the early morning hours is silently marred by the scent of a carcass long deceased. Whiskers scattered haphazardly and carelessly, its fetid stench reminisces upon bone piercing flesh. It has been battered to the roadside, barely recognizable--the disfigurement is irreversible.

Already merely a malodorous memory, the rancid lack of life lingers behind me, a silent whisper, an invisible specter. Death is simply death--to dwell upon it is to realize the inescapable end to all our endeavors and relinquish our denial of futility.

I shake my head and increase the volume of the music, my ever-ready distraction from the questions that matter.

Reviews

[Judy Ponceby]

I love Frank's depiction of you "The Cat's Meow"!! :) It's perfect. As for this piece of fine work here. It flows very well, i love the varied vocabulary to describe the carcass. Lots of subtle alliteration throughout very well done. I like the repetitive D sound throughout. I think the title is very fitting, as we all go along so often not really seeing what is before us, or if we do, not the meaning or ramifications of it. Death is not always the worst thing that can happen to us. Although it is unknown, some of the knowns are far worse to live. Awesome work once again. :) And yay! it's good to be back lol. :)

[FJ Davis]

To someone as young and new as you, death must seem to be an incomprehensible affront--profoundly unsettling.
As one goes on in life, and the body begins to break down, death appears far less outrageous and unfair. After all, dragging an increasingly unpleasant protoplasmic bag of sag around for eternity is not exactly a happy prospect. At some point, the deterioration, the misery, have to end.
Unfortunately, the fear of death never really goes away--and the revulsion at its sight and stench remain about the same.
Your short story is, as always, well considered and very well done.
"Whiskers scattered haphazardly..." conveys a certain dark comedy in your excellent observation.
Yes, I'm going to say it: You're the cat's meow, Ben Taylor.