I was young foolish and just out of the cookie cutter medical school at the community college. I work in the mortuary much better than watching the old women who die from cancer I've spent hours pumping radiation into their frail bodies "Fighting Cancer" I watched some die with terrible gasps of blood in the emergency rooms during a long internship A sheet thrown over As if we are already trying to forget it happened Death seemed to touch everything in my life Regrettably, it has yet to touch my life itself I am exhausted with the process of death But... I was both discomposed and ...aroused by its product The dead were just that Silent cold white And we covered their private areas with a white cloth If not under examination She was not dead though The mortician Warm with long black hair But almost just as white She leans over a cadaver before me Her voice echoing in the sterile Rubber scented universe of the examination rooms Her voice settling into the running tape recorder on the table I check off endless boxes on the clipboard I hold Only half paying attention Her scent lulls me I swear I smell her hair As if I were at the nape of her neck Seeping through the pungent and intoxicating scent of formalin A spark of life in the void She seems to realize all at once The gravity of my gazes She chides Please Stay Focused Countless hours we work together beneath the bright examination lights Sometimes working late into the night If a terrible car accident were to happen on the interstate
Once On a dark night on just such an occasion She enters the examination room in a rush Approaching a corpse I had already cleaned and undressed on the table A male somewhere in his early twenties with an unnatural ark in a few of his ribs. I was looking forward to photographing the anomaly for my
Most secret collection
She holds a 20 gauge syringe prepare with an odd violet colored solution She injects it into a dark black vein in the hand
I remain silent She stares at the injection sight intently Bead of crystal sweat falling down her forehead "We are never to speak of what we may see her tonight."
Her hair pulled into a tight bun A serious gaze in her dark eyes constrict me Somewhere far in the dark basement in the back of my mind A flare of something strange to my soul fear I am flooded with adrenaline and she seems satisfied with the dilation of my pupils and a smile stretched across my face
The corpse The skin begins to brighten Oxygenated blood running through starving veins Then A sigh A breath My hand pressed to the neck An arterial pulse Weak beneath warm flesh The thing breaths its breaths ragged at first Then faster She holds a cold stethoscope above the heart Each beat of it seems to reverberate in her eyes She stares at me Both terror and elation on her face She looked terrifying and beautiful Her face seemed chiseled of marble A shadow falling perfectly on her face Beneath the fluorescent glow It sits up at a back breaking speed Its eyes shooting wide open revealing A massive black pupil in a sea of jaundiced yellow eyes It's mouth opens wide And a deafening scream tears through his throat Reverberating through the two of us for eternity And echoing among the dull fluorescent halls of the mortuary only for a moment It's final word *fate