The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
The Massacre
by Marge Simon
After the slaughter of women and children, the screaming horses, the gibbering
of the maimed dies down, he’s drunk on weary and numb, but he sees her
among the raped and dismembered.
She rises from the newly slain to slip away to the prairie, dark hair afire with the light of dying souls, to where shadows rise and fall into the tumbleweed and brush,
where the faintest rustle of scorpions can drive a man mad, if he’s not yet there.
The wind shifts within the hour; yucca flowers move and small bats arrive to suckle them. Higher blows the wind and dust staunches his wounds. He gets to his feet and stumbles after that beautiful vision, to where the water holes are graced by ashen bones, wondering if she will be waiting for him –that sister, mother, wet dream wraith, with arms stretched wide to take him in.
Fiction © Copyright Marge Simon
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
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