OK, so I wrote this actually as a descriptive essay for a class a few years ago. But.... it's one of my favorite things I've ever written and I wanted to share it here and maybe get some feedback from people before I start to de-construct it and build again, bigger and better.... Thanks for reading.
She sat huddled under a large maple tree that was covered with flame red leaves. Filthy brown hair, matted together by something dark, hid most of her face. Only one dry, hazel eye focused on the house in front of her. Her face revealed that lost look that animals get when held too long in captivity. She was a beast set free from her cage and longing to return to it, but she couldn't. Inside of that house, that for a few months had been her sanctuary, lay her own personal hell. It was desecrated now, and no exorcism could ever restore it to what it once had been.
She shook her hair away from her face, and took a deep breath. The air was filled with the earthy, musky scent of autumn in a small town, and tinged heavily with the metallic odor of blood. Her eyes darted around the small, almost grass-less yard, taking in the ankle-deep leaves of browns, yellows, reds, and oranges.
As a little of the numbness wore off, her own actions started to occur to her. With her eyes welling quickly, she had flashes of her own life over the past years. The joy, the love, the anxiety, the fear, and finally the all-encompassing horror that had come to an end tonight flickered through her mind. She silently called herself an idiot for her tears. She knew that they fell as much for the loss of the man in the house, and who he could be, as for the relief that she'd never again have to see who he was. They started to fall faster over her fair, round cheeks, their moisture washing away some of the grime that covered them and revealing a freckle here and there. Every few moments the muscles in her stocky arms would twitch, dislodging the flies that congregated there. They moved in an odd slow frenzy; both drugged into slowness by the coolness of the night and frantic over the aroma of fresh blood.
She didn't flinch or move when she heard the wailing of the sirens in the distance. Even as they drew closer and the strobe of blue lights started to bounce all around her, it was as if she didn't notice. She made no move to get up or run away, never even put down the hammer in her right hand that was so sticky with drying blood that it would have taken effort to pull away. The fingers of her left hand twitched around a wadded piece of white paper, stained crimson with blood.
The blue and white police cruiser slid to a stop less than ten feet from her legs, spraying small pebbles in her direction. Even as their sharp edges pricked at her dirty, bare legs, she sat as silent and still as a statue. The successive slamming of two car doors almost managed to break through her hypnotized demeanor, but even that failed in the end, as did the crunching of gravel being crushed beneath the feet of the two men coming toward her, asking the usual questions.
"Miss, are you all right", asked the first. She had seen him here before several times, and knew his name was Joe. Tall and lanky, he was a young guy to be a cop in such a minuscule town, and the obvious differences between him and his partner didn't end with age.
"Ma'am are you hurt this time", the second asked halfheartedly. He was obviously annoyed at yet another trip to this same house. Judging by the red flush over his doughy, round face and the sweat breaking out over his forehead and bulbous nose, one could guess that his irritation was probably compounded by the energy he had to exert to keep up with his partner. His annoyance was quickly becoming the only emotion that she expected from this particular officer, whose name she couldn't remember.
Their only answer from her was a small flicker of acknowledgment in her slowly clearing eyes. She remained silent, unmoving, as the blood that covered her was slowly drying from its deep red to a rusty brown.
"Hey, George, call an ambulance, will ya? She's got blood all over her. This isn't another standard violation....Oh shit!" The taller officer's eye had just lit upon the hammer that rested on the palm of her right hand, sitting on her lap. The blood totally covered the head of the hammer, with thick streams that ran down the handle. The same wide paths had wound down over her hand and wrist. Still stuck in the claw of the hammer was a clump of gray, spongy matter and several dark hairs.
"Joe, what's that look like to you?"
"I'm not sure, but I'd say that's brain tissue. You stay here with her while I check the house. My guess is he's still in there", he answered, turning his back and walking away.
As his partner's footfalls faded toward the front door of the ramshackle house, he called for an ambulance and turned on his flashlight. He shone it on the girl in front of him, taking in the small details that had been obscured by the cover of night. She was young, only in her early twenties, and she was a mess. Under closer inspection, the hammer wasn't the only thing that appeared to be covered with what was left of someone's brain. Scattered over her entire upper body there were small grayish clumps that were now shriveling and drying into the congealing blood. She wore cutoff blue jeans and a tight T-shirt that may have started out its long life blue, but was faded almost to gray in the areas that weren't covered in gore. Her pale arms and legs were both covered in goose bumps from the chill that had permeated the night air, but she appeared oblivious to them. Her face was frozen in a look of intense attentiveness, as if she were watching the most important part of a movie in her mind and didn't want to miss any details.
He didn't dare touch her and risk contaminating any evidence on her person, and was thankful to hear the ambulance approaching quickly with sirens blaring. At the same moment that he turned his head toward the nearing vehicle, he heard his partner erupt from the house, almost falling off the porch in his haste. Before the questions could form in his mind, the other officer was hunched over, retching in the bushes that concealed the front of the house.
The ambulance slid to an abrupt halt as the sour stench of vomit contaminated the air of the small yard. The EMTs had absolutely no worries about evidence as they ran to the girl and started to check her over to determine if she was injured.
"Are you hurt?"
This time she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
"I think she's in shock. We'll get her loaded up. By the time we're ready, your back-up should be here, and someone from the PD can come with us."
As the EMTs started to try to lift the girl from her crouched position, one of them reached forward to remove the hammer from her grip.
"Hey! Leave that a second! It's evidence!", George barked at the female paramedic.
He trotted as quickly as his soft, paunchy body would let him to the cruiser, and removed a pair of latex gloves from a box in the back seat. He started to quickly pull on the gloves, cursing creatively as the rolled band at the bottom snagged a few hairs on his wrist. He then walked back over and gingerly picked up the hammer with two fingers and dropped it inside a plastic bag marked EVIDENCE.
"And make sure to bag all her clothing as well. I radioed in for the state boys to come out. Let's see what they have to say." With those curt words he turned to check on his partner who was still looking exceedingly nauseous by the bushes.
"You OK", he asked.
"Yeah. You call the troopers?"
Nodding his head and looking pleased with himself, he replied. "I figured it'd be a good idea."
Shaking his head in disgust, Joe said, "Oh, man. He's in there all right. Jesus." His fought to keep his face blank, but there was no disguising the horrified look in his eyes.
"Joe?"
"There's nothin' left of his head! It's friggin' bad. Just body, shoulders, then pulp. You don't really want to go in there. Trust me."
As the radio crackled with the information that the state police were on their way, he gave a weak smile and said, "Looks like I won't have to."
The EMTs were helping the traumatized girl to her feet slowly, when she lost her balance. As her left hand grappled toward the tree for support, the crumpled and bloody restraining order that she had been clutching fell to the ground.
