Utter serenity encompassed the neighbourhood,
The hands of clocks not moving, a standstill in time
There was no chirping of birds, no laughing children
Just a mood as dim of the dark sky floating around
Amidst the dull canvas, a neon yellow tape
Circling the perimeter, keeping reporters at bay
Witnesses borrowing the officers' time
Most statements the truth, some perhaps lies
Guiding the eyes inside the mellow cottage
Flashes from cameras snapping away
The stench of a body in the air
The real horror unravelled upstairs
Gaze immediately drawn to where the victim lay unmoving,
Bathing in splashes of crimson, his own blood
Defensive wounds depicted a struggle
Yet there they were, staring at a puddle
Scared of dying, wanting to take off running
Colours clashing, giving up seemed so much less tiring
The last few breaths, perhaps taken peacefully
At least he could join family
A silver glint diverts the eye
To the sharpened blade on the left side
Courtesy of that weapon
Unimaginable things happened
A yellow cone with the number two
Sat beside the murder tool
Handles and surfaces dusted with white powder
Fingerprints begging to be found by the hour
Standing out against the cream coloured walls
Was the blood spatter pattern, indicating the downfall.
The splashes and drips, an abstract art form
Though under these circumstances, people would mourn
Finally, the centre of the artwork
The atrocious monster everyone pictured
Who watched the life leave his eyes
Felt his chest's last rise
To find that despicable human being
Send him to a dungeon, to be left begging and pleading.
Like how he enjoyed torturing the victim,
Everyone was content in seeing him convicted
Stepping back from the painting
Looking at the moonlight shining
It gave hope that when the sun rose the next day
The person responsible would be found, and forced to pay
~End~
YOU ARE READING
Short and Sweet
Короткий рассказJust a compilation of some of my better stories. Includes: Flash Fiction Short Stories Poems TW for pretty dark themes [will say the exact TW(s) in the chapter itself] Read at your own risk Not exactly graphic in a very physical sense, Mature ratin...
