Lacrimation

The rape and murder of Cait.

They stood two upon the one. Hanging impossibly pregnant, fearful of release, a single crimson drop of blood hung like a bat from her lip, pear belly round, reflecting malicious grins of goblin white distortion. Her eyes were wide, clear, resigned as pleat swayed neither to walk nor breeze. Gleam of sharpen silver matched her pearls, which jumped without grace, dumb as dead to grunts of anger pulled and pushed, thrust and parry smacking flesh forbidden in pleasure denied victor and victim alike.

He turned the corner. Time changed as thought moved as light and the movement of men slowed as if the scene would play, had played, and events were but a retelling, a story written, and as words on a page, plot in prose, beyond the observer to alter, change, or stop. From a distance the drop fell, as surely as the eyes to follow, and in the dropping from afar a cry heralded the release of a love no scythe could cast asunder.

Reviews

[AutumnStorm]

Literally breathless from reading this chapter, all the more intense for the disseverment of language and thought, as though to move any closer would corrode the mind. This is enough. Too much. But a moment at a time is all that can be spared Cait before lock-down occurs and her pain becomes too great to fathom. The look that passes between them, John and the eternal, inescapable, imprint upon his mind..it is said that when death approaches life flashes, to read this moment something like that occurs, every thing that we have learned of her, her spoken words, her heart, her face, her calls for reassurance to the base, her conversations with John, the day that she knew she would have to leave Kulmyk, her love for her family, her strength, and more still all that is surmised, known, from essence shown, like branches of a tree potential growth in all directions spouts, what was never seen, what never occurred, what the future could have held, what thoughts, what emotions consume her at this precise moment. John too, a flash, regrets of moments past, thankfulness for perfect moments, instant clarification, fate, lack of control, turning point, overwhelming guilt and grief and, though I repeat, no escape. Frozen and simultaneously beyond, the event present echoes into the as yet otherwise unfilled halls of from now on. Tomorrow comes regardless this much is certain, what is certain too is that tomorrow is changed because of today. Just have to mention 'pear belly' as an example within that brought a sigh of reading pleasure, there were many others. Between frozen and beyond, words are not forthcoming, and so I reluctantly shall make use of the lazy yet supremely apt declaration of wow.

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You use words masterfully.

[AutumnStorm]

'..from afar a cry heralded the release of a love no scythe could cast asunder.'
Like the sun and the moon and the stars, like the ocean and the rain and the morning dew, like a kiss, like an embrace, like chocolate on the tongue bathed in coffee for the addict of both, this sentence is ambrosia for lovers of language. Again, just wow.