She hoped that she was as beautiful dead as he was.

9 Jul

Incredible story by Gregory Howard over at Trickhouse (ht: Matt Bell):

When the woman was still a girl, and before the disappearance, she and her brother would play dead bodies. Dead bodies meant lying next to each other, silent and immobile, in the parents’ bed. Almost touching, but not touching. It was always afternoon when they did this and their parent’s bedroom was dim and empty. When you are dead, her brother said, it’s dark, but not too dark. At first they still wore clothes, but slowly they took them off until they were naked. Degrees of death, her brother said. The desire to touch him consumed her. Like there was an animal under his skin that needed petting. But touching was forbidden. What do you think about when you’re dead? she asked. Death means not thinking, he said. But sometimes ants and worms come to eat. And yesterday a crow pecked out my eyes. Much to her awe he could be dead for hours. But all she could think was the word “dead”. Dead, dead, dead, she thought, in hopes of making it work.

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