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Showing posts from November, 2018

Carrion (My Wayward Son)

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The bits of necrotic flesh shedding from the carcasses of great beasts flutters in the cold, sunless depths of the sea like flakes of snow. An array of lights float through the darkness like stars in a midnight sky devouring every bit of the precipitating flesh they possibly can.
The mammoth bones sink to the bottom to settle into a quiet eternity on the ocean floor, their skeletons become a refuge for the creatures hiding from the roaming lights before time and pressure inevitably grind the mighty structures down into minute particles consumed by the Earth itself. In the opaque water just like in the void of space there are no horizons.
The creatures down below that sustain themselves on what comes from above will never cross any barrier between the two realms that are traversed only by the dead. The carrion that sustains life is merely a mysterious gift from the unknown.

Beneficiaries

Alan McCabe was born into the funeral business. His grandfather was the founder of Serene Pastures funeral home. The old man left the care of his legacy to his son, Martin. The twenty-seven years Martin ran Serene Pastures were steady, and upon his death, he passed the family business onto his son Allan.

Martin saw to it Alan was well versed in the trade. He taught his son and protege to be a capable mortician and businessman. His dutiful wife Elizabeth was a dependable and competent administrator between the two of them they were able to run a tight ship. Unfortunately, circumstances didn’t always remain so favorable.

Death is a steady business to be sure but the area Serene Pastures serviced became less and less lucrative over the years. The elderly died debt-ladened and abandoned by their kin in local morgues. No one had money to spring for grandma and grandpas memorial services. Heroin overdoses kept a trickle of business flowing, but these were more often than not very modest aff…