skulls

138 01 January 10th 2016

They found the skulls first. Picked clean to the bone, hollow eye sockets staring questioningly at the diggers.

Police tape went up. The curious were waved off. Those with missing family members huddled in small groups.

More bones, more body parts strewn in random patterns in the field. Buried in mixed-up piles of mismatched skeletal feet and hands, torsos and femurs.

What madman had silenced so many voices? Robbed so many family and friends of a loved one?

Who had done the dance of death under the blood moon? Cavorted to strange music; illuminated by torches.

“At least 1,500 years old,” the forensic pathologist said. “Serial killers are, indeed, a thing of the past.” {word count: 115}

Written for Sunday Photo Fiction, January 10, 2016, and Just Jot It January, hosted by Linda G. Hill @ Life in Progress, January 12: skulls, suggested by Dean @ Dean’z Doodlez

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6 thoughts on “skulls

  1. You shows two sides to this. In a way, it’s a relief that these aren’t recent victims. But the families of missing people won’t gain any closure from the bodies that have been found. A moving piece of writing.

    Like

the time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things . . .

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