A Ficly short about a murder scene.
I crouch down on the balls of my feet and look at the body. What a piece of art. Naked, bloody, left arm almost emancipated from the shoulder.
It’s ten at night, the corpse relaxes, illuminated by the dimness of the street light above. Highway roars in the distance. The buzz and wail of sirens has stopped. I survey the group. Everyone, bleary-eyed, watches from a distance while I snap a few pictures. No one wants to get closer.
It started two months ago, dead man in bathtub, arms and legs bound, head tied to cinder-block. I wonder who the fuck came up with that idea. The five cops who went to check out the body all turned up dead within two days. Those who looked into their murders were dead in six hours. Everyone naked, everyone covered in blood. Primal.
I look back at the half-circle of cars and officers watching from twenty or so feet as I probe the corpse. Maybe this will be me soon. Blue and red lights twirl and flash over the body and me, and it feels for a moment like we’re dancing.
Originally on Ficyl.com: http://ficly.com/stories/15760
-Adam
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