Have you ever touched a dead person?
Seen a dead person?
What’s it like, you may ask someone like me
who has indeed prepared the dead for their
last visit with their nearest and dearest.
Have you ever walked up to a house
doesn’t matter if it’s a new house or an old house or the remains of a house
and you’ve stood there and knew, in your bones, that nobody was there.
That the house was empty, and nothing was alive in there.
Whatever it was that made that house a home was gone.
So that’s what it’s like to touch a dead person.
That’s what it feels like.
It’s not to big of a thing and after a while you actually get used to it.
But when the dead touch you…
You never do get used to that.
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Anita’s Owl Creek Bridge
When I was a kid I wasn’t afraid of anything.
I wasn’t afraid of falling down, I didn’t get defensive when people yelled at me and I also didn’t laugh a lot.
When I was a kid I was refered to as a Baby Monster- which was funny because I hated monsters with a passion and used to going looking for them in the middle of the night- in our basement, outside in the dark after everyone was asleep just so I could take them out with my little yet, I was sure of it, skilled and capable hands.
So I still wonder what made me appear so monstrous to anyone.
I have to say though…I miss those days.
And sometimes when I’m having a down day or I’m feeling a bit vulnerable I can see Baby Monster in my mind’s eye.
And she is always smiling.
It used to be that I only posted my short stories here.
And then I’d skip to another blog and post jounal-y random stuff.
That’s what I used to do.
But this blog is my favorite for a variety of reasons, so my Bridge is going to go all write-y, random-ly, jounal-y now.
But the weirdness and the macabre stuff?
As it should…am I right?