Pool_2

what a night of horror! His last call was to attend an unresponsive woman sprawled in a bath tub. And that is when and where he lost it. Her lifelessness, left alone in a tub, with an ongoing orgy in the adjacent room where unconcerned and unclothed bodies writhed on one another. Into that uncaring fasciculation was his pistol emptied. Five naked men dead, three women one of whom was his wife of six months. I cannot recall his face which so calmly pulled the naked damned from an ambulance agape, his dead bride last. I remember this. Even so, I can't see her nor can I snatch a glimpse of him in the act. Both - are now just words of things out of reach.

Words capture feelings. But feelings cloud. Images distort with distance. I retell old remembered words, but the forms are vapor - lost, exhalations, all of them.

All of them.

All of them, but one.

An explosion of despair filled the void of all creation,

'THIS ONE IS MINE!'

I recoiled from a laceration toward the doorway. A silhouette, an eclipse, of striking darkness within a blinding corona . That searing frame of light caught my unready eyes