Rain, Flower, Ice Cream

She’s scrawled across the gravel, facing the dark sky with her mouth wide open. I hesitate for a moment. Her fragility scares me. It’s only when she stirs that I drop to my knees, splashing mud onto the both of us.

I prop my umbrella by her head, shielding her from the downpour and throwing myself into nature’s rhythmic chaos. As I fumble with my backpack, repulsed by the coarse touch of its drenched straps, she begins to emit a low guttural moan. The noise prompts me to caress her face — an instinct evoked by our shared past to soothe her worries — but my fingertips pause at her jaw. It’s broken.

Perturbed, I continue to trace her body, pressing down on certain points that arouse my curiosity. She makes more noise, each more animalistic than the one before, and I’m almost afraid that we’ll soon be discovered. But the pain must have been too much, for she soon falls back into silence. Her lack of reaction halts my investigation and I make my consensus. Every bone beneath my touch has been shattered. It has done its job well.

As if summoned by my thoughts, it appears from within the umbrella’s shadow and claws itself up her matted hair. It pecks her eyes playfully before I can even whisper to it to be patient, but she’s too far gone to react. Feeling the rain pelt my back, I resume my task of opening my backpack. Out I pull a tiny bundle of lavenders. I stuff it gently into her gaping mouth, blossoms up.

I’m sorry. I forgot to bring the milk. But I’m sure you can churn something out of rainwater, I tell the little creature.

It squeaks back at me, almost affectionately, to thank me for the treat and burrows itself through her pale forehead. I shiver and clutch the shaft of the umbrella for support. I’m not good with blood. Scrambling to my feet, I take one last look at my old friend before walking away. There will be a second chance for viewing (at the funeral), but I’m sure that her corpse will be too mangled by then.

I can’t imagine how much pain she went through before finally kicking the bucket. If only she hadn’t attempt to poison me through ice cream, and specifically using my favourite flavour… Now I’ll have to cross another item off the dessert list.

[Reposted from my Instagram @forascare]