so it returned...never really having left at all...
this was the first night for the infamous calgary shampede, and as i made my way along the platform, deserted in the warm darkened breeze that would be 4am this morning, i saw what could perhaps have passed for spilled coke or some such thing. except... the first stain had more thickness to it-and with it, the discolouration typical of blood.
this is the station wherenot two afternoons prior, had been the scene of yet another stabbing. a 14 year old 'boy'. apparently a boy who had been cocky at the previous station by crowing over being able to 'kick the shit outta...'
only to discover down the tracks, that he could't after all...
was this his blood? it too, didn't seem so cocky. just a series of stains on, and soaked into the concrete, fading already-just as his story, and likely himself too...
a corn broom dipped into the bleach and water busily set about scrubbing away the remnants of this 14 year old, beginning with the beginning. then the trail, as it wound its way lazily out the shelter and down the platform, a fluid arc down the way towards a bench where it formed another pool...larger than the first. more blood along the floor surrounding the bench...then nothing.
erased...a presence no more.
