november 15th 1896 day of birth
november 26th 1921 lost in the woods
november 28th 1921 looking for you
november 30th 1921 day of death
that morning the sky was foggy and white, the air was so humid that it felt like i was drowning. it seemed like there were a million clouds slowly falling down unto the surface of the forest floor. my throat was dry, i had been walking around with a dizzied head looking to find the water stream.
i heard soft breathing in the distance which made my ears perk up, it was followed by the click of a shotgun.
my eyes instinctively squeezed closed, every nerve in my body tensed up, and once i opened them again i was flat on my back like a stone.
my leg started to bleed out into the mushy leaves that were once beneath my cold feet, previously dampened with the amniotic rain; to now suddenly soaked in my ancient blood.
i remember i was safely chauffeured by the cosy trunk of your car. the metal and paint was almost completely eaten away by the rust. i can't even remember much of what happened that afternoon. but i know my body was withering away in the back of that trunk like a blood bank dissolved.
it was a long trip of complete darkness, all i could do to pass the idle time was count the hairs on my forearms all the way down to my knuckles. i think i fell asleep to the faint humming of the radio, channel 19.03. the muffled and previous cheery radio voice lowered into a somber cadence; "a shooting on st. evelyn avenue, 1 dead, and 2 wounded in critical condition.. snow storms coming later this week, stay indoors, stay safe." i covered my ears to drown it out.
i happened to doze off for the last stretch of the car ride, it felt like i was stuck in purgatory. the truck lid flung open and i was blinded by the sudden change, the white florescent bulbs hanging down were illuminating the open garage and storage shed. my eyeballs were pulsating and i couldn't see anything except for a cut-out silhouette.
i was escorted to a small candle lit shed; partially wilted grocery store rose petals were sloppily tossed onto the loose gravel walkway, leading the path to the beginning of my new life.
i was still too afraid to properly look at you.. i think that if i saw your face it would become more real. kind of like how i can't properly make out faces in my dreams, you know?
you opened the door to the corroded shed as if there was a big pile of cash and a shiny new car stuffed inside with my name on it. it displayed a buffet- a ragged edged knife, a hacksaw, and a wobbly cleaver. the tools were all clearly used, but all laid out evenly on a sun-bleached doily. they were the only objects in that shed not covered in dust and dander.
i simultaneously felt a lump in my throat along with a slight sense of relief. i remained silent, unmoving. you looked at me inquisitively, and gestured to me as if to 'take my pick'.
"i don't want to die", my voice cracked. you had a barbed wire touch along the skin of my shoulder, resting your hand innocently. almost with the vague familiarity of a distant relative you see once every three years. how are you? your hair has changed, did you get a new haircut? you've gotten taller. you've lost weight. did you get a job yet? did you meet someone yet? oh, how you've gotten fatter.. any comment applies.
this familiar touch was the official commencement of the first day of my new life.
i spent my days sedated and bundled up. there is truly no place like home, i knew this. and you made everything worse. loving you implied death, but i know now that you're probably proud of that with every toothy smile you flashed me in response.
i think back on heaven in the shed, the days where i couldn't locate every sun spot or follicle on your face. i fell in love with the shadows along those cabin walls and the people i met in my dreams as i'd lay in front of the fireplace. sprawled out, naked on the rug, just like a palaeolithic house cat.
do you want to be possessed, cherished, or wanted? wanted down to the marrow inside of your bones. do you think you can truly love somebody without swallowing them entirely? i'm not quite sure about it, but i'm sure you'd say 'there is simply no other way of loving'.. though i find you to be pathetic.
i remember the short autumn days, they were made to feel very long. the orange lamp light soaking the mildew stained couch. you'd hold my broken body together with all of your might, everything spilling right out of me. mucus and urine seeping out onto your legs like rain, skin and muscle falling right off the bone.. but you clutch me in your arms with the fervor that i might just turn into sand and fall straight through your grasp.
why didn't you just let me die? now i'm leaking cerebrospinal fluid.. bound and draped in white gauze like a new bride, cloaked in damp unkempt hair. am i a cockroach? whether i'm hung by the neck and limp, or tied upside down by my ankles- hair to the floor, draining out like a piece of pork, i choose not to die. i didn't want to anymore, but i don't think it mattered what i wanted or not.
when at the hand of a hunter, or a taxidermist. i was unsuited to be hung up and displayed on the mantle. i was a living specimen, pulled out of my basin daily. you combed my sopping matted hair, and proceeded so very gently as to not snap those fragile hairs clean off my scalp.
clean, and renewed. replace the stale browning fluid preserving me.. it was indeed a daily feat. i sat on a little salmon coloured towel laid over one of the couch cushions, my vision was a blurry blob of gunk or formaldehyde dripping over and seeping in from my sparse eyelashes.
you called me a little demon whenever the comb got caught on my hair. but without my pain, you do not exist to anyone.
i think a day or two went by, the blinds were always closed which made it difficult to tell what time it was. i dozed in and out while slouching, propped up against one of the chairs. those big leather ones, with the foot rests.
there was a gun and a carton of milk on the coffee table.
i watched you stand around in the kitchen clumsily and bumbling like a child.. although i can't imagine you ever being properly young, with your broken nose bridge and big dark brows that nearly hold hands in the centre.
you went from 4 years old to 40 once you turned to my direction and said, "we both stare at the same darkness each time we close our eyes." i think you were trying to be poetic, but you were lying.. when i close my eyes, i don't see darkness.
i see the soft glow of the street lamps, flickering through the blinds of my bedroom window. i see the light catching dust in the air, floating like tiny fireflies. i see my angel's hands braiding my hair, pulling it tight against my scalp, humming an old song; stopping and starting over and over and over whenever missing a beat. i really don't want to die anymore. i don't want to feel pain.
the gun sat heavy on the table. i wondered if you left it there on purpose, or if you wanted me to take it.. or if you wanted me to watch you pick it up first.
i watched as your hand trembled when you reached for the milk instead. i wet my cracked lips, my tongue felt like a heavy dead thing in my mouth. "do you want to die?" i asked. "i don't want to die." i retorted before you answered. your grip tightened around the carton.
i stood up, bare feet sinking into the stained carpet. i took slow steps toward you, the weight of my own body felt foreign. my knees were wobbly and calves were loose like i had been reduced down to a festering marionette of sinew and gauze.
you didn’t move, you just sat there your hair covering your forehead, your glasses getting foggy. i picked up the gun, it felt so heavy in my hand. you exhaled, long and slow. staring at me with blurry eyes, like you had been waiting for me to touch it.
i was afraid, the anxious lump in my throat growing and expanding into a whole other version of myself. my legs were sprouting and stretching out into my own stomach, my arms pressing against my lungs and putting pressure onto my ribs. any moment i would explode and give birth to myself.
i pressed the barrel under your chin. you hardly moved, you just looked up at me with those dark downturned eyes, they reminded me of my childhood dog. they almost made me want to feel bad for you.
i lowered the gun, and your mouth opened. you told me it's all going to be okay, because we'll be doing it together. you wrapped your arm around, clutching the back my head so we'd connect eyes. we stared at each other for a moment as my eyes began to well up, and you followed suit.
that was the first time i've seen you cry. i knew i shouldn’t keep clinging onto you or it would kill me. i pat the top of your skull, and touched the soft curls at the top of your head as if they would fall out of your scalp any second now.
i slid the back of my cold hand onto your neck to feel the warmth against me, confirming that you were still something living and human.. i raised my palm to cup your hollowed cheeks, felt the sharp bone pressing beneath your skin. i felt petrified, my hands have never trembled more in my life, and my second skull was about to burst through my throat and exit through my mouth if i did not hurry.
i wobbled backwards, my vision blurry and eyes burning. i pulled the trigger.
my heart was still beating out of my chest, it was slamming against my ribcage repeatedly. my eardrums felt like they've been ruptured. it felt like everything has broken into two, a second ago you were still here. sitting in front of me, warm skinned, doe eyed, but with a disturbing parasite brewing inside of your skull and eating away at your brain.
your head laid back, and something inside of you bloomed. a bundle of red, pink-gray matter clustered and falling off like petals of a rotten flower. your skull split open with the wet sound of overripe fruit bursting under my feet and between my toes. the soft tissue of your jaw, appearing peeled apart as if a hand had grabbed hold and wrenched your face open to see what was inside.
there was blood on me, all over the bandages covering my body, on my skin, hands, face... i thought i backed up enough to avoid this.. but i felt disgusting, you were all over me. i felt disgusting. this is disgusting. you were all over me.
it trickled down my chin like something religious, like the last thing you could have given me. your last punch, grab, rip, arrow shot, gun shot, busted lip, blackened eye, bloodied bruise; your final 'fuck you' to the world you hated. the back of your head left a streak against the couch. the cabin had never been so silent. i stood there, my eyes defocusing getting lost inside of my own head.
your body convulsed, this is now your final betrayal of muscle memory. your ribcage shaking and your hands twitching toward me like a desperate attempt at doing a prayer. you were still warm.
your mouth, gored and slack, still seemed to be trying to form words even though nothing was coming out. i watched you horrified, gurgling blood like mouth wash, bubbling like a bath. a sound like drowning. a sound like the human body trying to cling to a life that had been stolen from it.
i stared, watching your body finally go still, head slumped, mouth parted. one of yours eyes still intact, still downturned and beautiful. like my sweet childhood dog. but now you were innocent, safe to touch just like he was, and you had never looked more beautiful.
i pressed my forehead against yours, against what was left of you. i sighed and walked over to open the blinds, it was pitch black. so i walked back over to you and curled up like a stray. i slept there that night, soaked in your quickly cooling blood until the morning.
it was early morning, i knew it as the sun beamed through the window and down onto me. it warmed my skin and the dust particles were now floating in front of my eyes, and your blood glistening.. sparkling within the open captivity of your head.
i opened the fridge and was welcomed by a foul odour, but it was empty.. aside from a stick of butter and a single egg. i walked over to the coffee table and took a sip of the stale warm milk you had left in the bottom of the carton.
i grabbed the salmon coloured towel off of the couch and wrapped it around me as i left the cabin, covered in blood. it's dried onto my face like a second skin that the wind kissed.
the forest stretched out deep and wide, a swallowing thing. my footsteps were uneven, my legs weak as if i were walking for the first time again, relearning how to move in a place where they no longer existed. my breathing was shallow and ragged. the sun beaming into the cabin led me to believe it would be warmer out, but it was late autumn after all.
i was covered in raised bumps, among with other marks.. bruises, smears.. i wanted to shed my skin, peel myself open, step out of this body that had done what it had done. i thought of them.. their blood on my body, drying in between the little lines along my palms, soaking into my hangnails. seeping into the webs of my fingers.
i thought of the eye connect before i pulled the trigger, the look of not being afraid, not angry, just waiting.. almost obedient. i keep comparing them to a dog. i don't know if that's accurate. i thought of the way the body twitched, spasmed, as if it couldn’t decide whether to let go or stay there with me... and i thought of how quiet they had become.
i stumbled deeper into the woods, bare feet sinking into the damp rot of the leaves. then i heard a noise, it started soft, gentle. branch cracking, movement in the undergrowth. i looked around but there was nothing. i felt something closer which sounded like low breathing. my legs were getting increasingly weaker, and my chest was feeling hollow, so i sat down beside a tree to catch my breath.
i rested my eyes, i don't know how long it was.. i wanted to sleep but the sunlight was shooting through my eyelids. i heard more rustling of the leaves, and the sun was no longer in my eyes. a shadow was casted upon me and a dark subject was blocking it.
a black elk.. it's fur was damp, rippling in the wind, the ribs visible beneath the thick, wet coat. we stared at each other, breath shallow and slow. our dark glassy eyes locking, conjoining and i felt it again—that familiar feeling. not anger, nor malice. just hunger.
i stretched my legs out in front of me as i breathed heavily.. the elk exhaled, and the warm, damp breath fanned over my face, heavy with the scent of moss and maybe, blood.
i watched as it lowered it's head, large antlers caught the last slivers of fading light.. and then i closed my eyes.
then it struck, a sharp, splitting crack erupted as it's antlers drove into my side. piercing through my skin and ripping muscle like dry-rotted fabric. then the antlers slipped between my ribs. my body jerked backward with the force, and my head thrusted back against the ground. my mouth opened, but no sound came out.
it pulled back, my ribs breaking against the antlers, setting me free but ripping me open like an offering wound. pints of fluid and blood began pouring and splashing right out of me in thick pulsating waves. darkening and soaking all of the soft leaves under us completely. it drove into me again. a sickening, wet crunch as something deep inside me tore. i felt my bones shift and misalign, the warmth of my own blood flooding over my stomach, pooling onto my legs and feet. there wasn't enough of me intact to stay hooked onto those antlers, i simply laid there. completely torn open, deep red and glistening.
i did not scream, i simply couldn't.
the elk stood over me, it's nostrils were flaring. it watched as i shuddered, my eyes going black, and my body convulsing in the dirt, my limbs slowly growing cold. another round of white-hot pain met me, burst through my side as the first set of teeth sank in. another at my throat, pressure building before my skin split open like an overfilled plastic bag.
i did not scream.. i simply couldn't. my body gave way like wet paper, and at this point i could barely feel myself being pulled apart, piece by piece, bones and cartilage grinding, muscle tearing. until nearly nothing of me was recognizable. the sounds of my body being devoured, slurps and squelching, teeth grinding against bone.. i wondered why my brain hadn't died yet.
i couldn't move, i couldn't talk, i couldn't do anything but think, and all i was thinking was that this felt like something. almost like an embrace, or becoming something new.. like being reborn, or being returned to the earth, piece by piece, as if i had never truly belonged anywhere else. my eyes struggled to move up, but they met with the elk's eyes. it looked back at me with quiet indifference as it gorged until it's stomach was heavy.
and then i heard it, a third sound. another gunshot.
the deafening sound ripped through the symphony of wet chewing and the soft river stream.
the elk staggered, it's body jerked sideways, the legs buckling slightly. a fourth sound. a second shot rang out, and with it, the elk collapsed right beside me. it's head nearly landing right into the puddle of my body.
i moved my eyes again with the last of my strength, my cheek pressing into the blood soaked leaves. it's dark eyes were still open, staring blankly into the nothingness. why did it deserve to get such a painless departure? why am i still here?
my mind was slowing down as i listened to heavy boots crush the leaves nearby, a slow and cautious approach. a shadow loomed over me once more.
it was another hunter. and he stood there, rifle still raised, staring down at the gore in front of him.
at the elk, at me, then at the unbelievable pile of red, pink-grey and brown.
i wanted to say something, but my lips only parted uselessly, a stream of dark blood slipping from the corner of my mouth.
the hunter tilted his head, allowing the sun to beam onto my face. it felt warm on my skin.. i let my eyes finally close to rest.
and then.. nothing.
the hunter took a step back, exhaled slowly. his boots shifting in the dirt and wet. he lowered his rifle but his trembling hands did not relax.
maybe he was deliberating in his head if he should still drag this elk back with him. what are the ethics of feeding your family an elk that you witnessed gorging on the bloody body of a girl?
after a brief moment, he turned and walked away.