« Je suis travailler | Main | It's official »

March 17, 2008

kicking the buzzard

The buzzards circled overhead...

Below them a man lay tarred and feathered in the desert.

We think of being tarred and feathered as a funny saying
but when vigilante justice prevailed being tarred and feathered was a punishment some actually suffered.

Hot tar was painted onto an immobilized victim.
Burns would be sustained upon contact that caused permanent scarring.
If the tar was removed while still hot the victims skin would peel off.
A action difficult to imagine one human capable of doing to another human being.

He lay on the floor of the desert - the heat pounding down -
he was immobilized and unable to do anything more than moan in agony..each breath labored and filling his lungs with the stench of tar and his own scored flesh.

Death would be a welcomed respite to the unrelenting pain.

The buzzards circles...their caws alerting others of the potential for a meal..

One vulture lands close to the man - curiously tilting its head..

it hops closer..the man can smell the reek of the carrion feeding bird as it comes close..

He tried to scream but he is unable to speak, unable to move..

Thought the vulture prefers pungent rotting flesh, hunger and impatience for a meal prompts the bird to take
just one small peck..

just one small bite from an open sore on the leg of his meal

The mans eyes enlarge ...they become saucers of horror..

The Vulture caws triumphantly and more buzzards land and hop over, ready to partake...

"Please let me die now" The man thinks.. the though of the buzzards feasting on him while he is still completely conscious outrageous all his sensibilities..

A vulture comes closer to his face... attracted by the movement of his eyes and the flutter of what is left of his singed eyelashes..
It hops on his chest and moves closer to his face. Closer to his eyes.

The man swallows hard and braces. The last thing he will ever see is the beak of the bird as it plucks his eye from it's socket....

He feels himself falling...
and falling...

He feels not blistering heat..
but a comforting warmth

He feels clear, clean air fill his lungs as his breath expands and contacts his chest easily.

He feels his legs stretch and he moves his toes.
His hands...
He moves his fingers...

His hand moves to his face and feels only soft skin..

He flutters his eyes open and sees the floor of the desert..
and his body free from the restraints and the tar bits lying aside amid feathers that flutter in the slow desert wind.

And around his body lies buzzards...
dead in a circle around him

He has been resurrected..
given life again

In the middle of this desert and feels more alive than ever before.
He is not sure how to get out of the desert but he has never felt more powerful,
more hopeful than before
this
very
moment

He stands up - looks up to the sky to orient his direction.
And takes his first step.
newly born

He heads to the west..
and as he begins his trek to points unknown..

he kicks the buzzard

Posted by aynne at March 17, 2008 10:21 AM

Trackback Pings

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.avalen.com/movabletype/mt-tb.cgi/253

Comments

Post a comment