ASHES

ON

BLOODY BONE

A Short Fiction

In Celebration

Of

The Fall Season

By

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

09/13/2006

I loved this time of year. With the breeze, the colors and the ever increasing hurry for the first advertisements of Christmas. It seemed like it happened sooner every year.

Even with the unspoken treatise pertaining to forbidding it until at least the day after Halloween. Someone always managed to sneak a few early advertisements into the mix.

In any other country it would seem odd to see ghosts and goblins in the same moments a person could see the likeness of elves and snowmen. But not here.

Here, we just do things a little different I guess. Even with the recent political changes.

I still couldn’t believe it as we wrapped up the day, making sure that everything remained as it was when we found it there in its most gruesome state. Except the larger physical remains which would still have to be identified, having already been taken to the morgue.

It was definitely cult like, but of a sort we hadn’t seen since the government changed hands and essentially removed any sort of organized crime…except for that of those with government affiliated uniforms of course. But that was now called enforcing the law.

This was simply hideous. Beyond anything a person could recognize as human. It made me glad that I was as close to retirement as I was. Knowing that there was no way I would be able to focus on a string of cases like this one and worry about making sure I still received my retirement. I might even just retire early.

Judging from the easily discernable evidence at the scene, it was a throw back to cult like activity which had its origins in the manipulation of law. Particularly, that in regard to manipulating law in order to procure unclaimed, and even yet to be executed estates.

It definitely had the ear marks of those old activities. My first instinct was that it had been a “copy cat” sort of perpetrator. But as we looked closer, it lost any resemblance to such an idea.

When we arrived on the scene, we found a copy of an Estate Will tacked to the wall with a bloody shard of bone which had been stripped from the larger bone of the victims shin area. Probably while the victim was still alive from the looks of it.

The Will had stated that the recipient – which was presumably the victim in this case scenario and as per consistencies from the cult like activities it resembled – would receive the balance due them in the estate at the allotted time and date, unless the mentioned recipient managed somehow to be disemboweled and mutilated, where the balance, as with all other unclaimed sums, would find its way into a sort of probate limbo. Becoming “fair game” so to speak for those with the sort of information regarding the happenings of such legalities – which could be anyone in this day and age of electronic communications.

It would seem that this particular individual’s inheritance would most definitely be “up for grabs,” even if we managed to catch the people that mutilated the sorry so and so.

I found it odd for a moment that the Will would be dictatorial in such a manner. More that it would have a stipulation instructing such directions, in such a far fetched percentage chance of occurrence. Then it occurred to me that the date on the will was from a time within society where such supposed legal documents were a type of “front lines” in a war that no one knew about. Who ever drew it up knew what they were doing, and did so with the intention of securing a better chance of their own beneficiaries actually getting the estate.

No such luck obviously. Who ever did this unspeakable crime had planned it for some period of time. That much was beyond any doubt. And, obviously were going to “get their end of it”… but only on the outside chance that who ever they were in leagues with within this revitalized function, actually won the battle yet to transpire over the estate itself. As I stated… from what I can remember those aspects of this form of “legality” can be worse than the result of intestines and body parts I just spent the day sifting through.

Unless of course they had opted to split it …no pun intended… in some behind the scenes deal.

Suddenly it was all I could do to just look at the row of trees lining the road, now amber and other shades of orange. The evening was crisp as I again recalled scooping the remains of a face into a plastic bag. Realizing there was no way even to discern the sex of the victim at that point, given the level of dismemberment and mutilation.

Who ever it was wanted to make sure they were definitely in compliance with the terms of the estate.

Some of the entrails had been strewn about, as if dragged haphazardly… then losing the attention of the perpetrators for some time until again they moved them around a bit more. Then there were other parts of the intestines weaved carefully in the ceiling fans and lamp fixtures hanging from the ceiling in each room. The skull had been broken and the brain removed – then most likely consumed.

I am glad it was a small, two story abode. At least it was limited as to where inside of it I would have to look before I could say I had been thorough.

Any of the younger guys on the job these days would probably have just written this off to some wacko. Especially with the use of the entrails in such a manner, post mortem I hoped. I might have considered the scene as produced by some nut job as well…but then I noticed a significantly unique trait which I recognized from “back in the day” when this sort of thing was just a part of litigation quite normally.

It was definitely a cult occurrence, as various other body parts had been used in a sort of ceremony. Of course the other guys didn’t know that yet. They would have to puzzle over the photographs of pots filled with eyeballs, heart meat, finger tips, the undigested contents of the stomach, some brain and even hair if I could remember right from previous and long closed cases.

Then there was bound to be the remnants discovered of the contents of said pots in some form of drinking vessels scattered through the house. Probably very near smears of any feces they could have removed from the victim’s colon and used ceremonially, even and especially around the rim of the drinking vessels.

I did notice that this particular case might have a rather good lead, being that in the self induced trance like state and in their inexperience perhaps, they had left a used condom very near the area where it had been obvious that the victim was dismembered. Which means, they were either out of practice, or were new “members” attempting the ritual acts for the first time.

Either way, it was evident the root cause was in fulfilling the stipulations of the Will posted to the wall. Just not in the manner it was meant to be legally addressed. The estate in question pertaining to this particular victim, would most surely be up for grabs I imagine.

Unless of course, one of the legal sort finds that the dismemberment and disembowelment hadn’t been done in a way which would satisfactorily fulfill the stipulation for non-remittance. Which was probably unlikely given the risk involved in pissing these kind of people off. But was still a definite option as such a finding would then place the estate in a different area of said “limbo,” making it just noticeably more difficult for the “interested parties” to “win the prize” so to speak. But nothing much more really than a re-negotiation with the other legal types which had made such findings.

Let’s face it. They went to the trouble of such a production and performance just to insure the estate would not be remitted to the individual it legally belonged to. How far of a stretch is it to consider what they would do after putting so much effort into this hideous act, if it didn’t pay off? What would they be prone to do to the sorry bastards that “ruined it” for them?

I found myself only hoping at this point that the estate had been substantial. At least billions of what was really rather valueless at this point within the recent power shift. Sure, it was just one person presumably, which had been dispatched in such a gruesome way… and when you look around it is rather easy to consider it justifiable considering how populated the world is. And further populated with some pretty questionable sorts. But it was done in such a horrific manner. The sort of exit no one should have to experience in our day and age. Unless of course the unfortunate individual deserved it…which could only be a fact if it were that the victim themselves were part of a similar cult. Because really, there isn’t anyone that “deserves” to be alive more than anyone else. There are just that many people. So much so, that I sometimes wonder why our species has even survived.

It kind of makes a person feel sorry for the sicko’s that do that sort of thing, doesn’t it? To the point of not wanting to see them suffer any more in their obvious ignorance and lack of reason for living beyond such pronounced and unnecessary efforts to procure something that others see as valuable.

Maybe the new form of government will get around to just putting them out of their misery?

Maybe the new form of government is supporting them? Needing to make itself important somehow?

At that point I realized that it was the last thing I needed to do in beginning to speculate on conspiracy possibilities. I had seen enough for the evening and would have to look at it some more first thing in the morning. Not to mention then, my concerns about retiring.

What I needed was a drink and a quiet place to collect my thoughts.

I knew from experience what I had seen this evening. I was kind of mad at them for ruining this part of the season for me this year…. But then I was kind of grateful for another excuse to not go home right away this late afternoon, nearing twilight.

I had a good excuse now to go for a long walk. A long walk and a drink at my leisure. I figured it was the least I could do for myself now thinking further about the risks and useless hassle I would soon have to undergo in keeping my retirement.

I would tell the other guys about it being a cult, in the morning. Decidedly, through a mild hang over. There was really no hurry anyhow as the victim was already past the worst of it and those other interested parties were now stuck in a holding pattern. They weren’t going to be able to even begin plans for spending, for some time. And I am sure they had no plans of going anywhere.

“Besides” I thought as I began to stroll down the colorful scene of the street, “it would do the younger guys good to mill around and soak the situation in. You know what they say about mystery” I continued to myself. “It can’t do them any more harm than it already has” I concluded as I then began to hum a little tune from somewhere long ago.

“What a nice street” I found myself considering absent mindedly as I strolled and hummed. “Makes sense… in that old, sick way, it just makes sense.” I continued in thought. “I really needed to do some thinking about this early retirement option.”

The pumpkins were out and I noticed as I passed, the pronounced level of urgency in the squirrels scurrying about in the park. It was definitely closing in on winter as they clearly announced in their slight desperation to establish their winter lodgings and collect their rations for the duration.

“How similar most people are” I thought to myself again, “and how many should be even more similar” I continued as I briefly halted to take in the scene.

I then realized a deeper, almost instinctual reason why I had stopped in the area during my stroll. “Which tree do I suppose it is this time” I found myself nearly musing. “If it is a resurgence of the methods I’ve seen before…and if the victim was in fact a male” I then paused to survey more closely the arrangement of trees in this particular park, “which one do you suppose the ceremony led the cult members to” I asked myself in a removed manner. “Where… just which tree do I suppose now possibly houses the sexual organs?”

As I stood there gazing, I then found myself begin to laugh somewhat obviously as I pondered a rather abstract thought. “I would be rather upset as well if I were a squirrel....” I concurred with myself in absurd consideration, “If I were in a hurry to fill my squirrel hole with nuts… and it was already done in a manner that just would not suit the needs so urgent to the onset of winter... most assuredly I would be put out to say the least.”

I convinced myself that such possibilities would best wait as well. There was no reason for hurry. No reason what so ever.

I noticed then my breath in the air for the first time this year, and with it found myself distressed in a sort of envy at this sad display of humanity called a cult as well as the squirrels in their simple existence.

“If only my earned retirement would be so easily hidden” I then thought in time with my returning stride. “So easily procured and placed in safe keeping for my use as I duly see fit” I continued as my pace added to the coolness in the breeze, momentarily pausing in thought as to allow myself to catch the thought firmly.

“Near thirty years of service” I repeated to myself in thought a few times, “and there were still no guarantees” I then found myself again in a sort of suspended recess. “It may as well have been an entire lifetime” I half mumbled while continuing my stride, “exceptionally regarding comparison with the apparent youth of the spent life now strewn about in their own home…surely never even lending a guess toward the sum total of their existence ending up as fodder to aggravate squirrels in the park” I thought even further.

I then realized that I had always tended to avoid consideration as per the victims thoughts in the last moments of life. This I presume being quite natural given the circumstances of their demise. It would be quite harrowing for anyone to spend too much time in such directions of consideration.

For some reason, this time was different as I now began to notice.

It would be obvious that there is no longer any matter of worldly concern in the victims mind as they suffer through the torturous demise, much less any concern for receiving an estate, if even they had an opportunity to relate the suffering with a due remittance, to begin with. Of course, the concern for said estate would obviously be of interest to those perpetrating the morbid acts. Perhaps even celebrated as some secret between them with glances in anticipation, then serving to excite the sinister activity and perhaps even to heighten some sexual state of mind.

Some frantic sense of power, and the inconsolable sense of powerlessness in the extremes. It must be quite the sickening high, even while both manifest as forms of desperation.

It is hard to begin to imagine the surreal experience of being a victim to such a tremendously excessive degree. The disbelief…the torment… then relenting to an unrecognizable form of impatience in the want of permanent closure. A want, I would imagine which is most times impossible to express…making it all the more desperate and pronounced. All through impossible amounts of pain and anguish never measured. Every aspect of it serving to inspire greater interest from those carrying out the seemingly – presumably – rehearsed and meaningful acts of perversion in the most severe definitions understandable.

“What a peculiar creature we are” I then thought aloud upon another chilled exhale. “What ghastly potentials we seem to magnify and manifest amongst all of the others in our realm of existence” I persisted in thought, “as if there is some unknown need for it…something that calls certain versions of us to such levels…being high or low… to satisfy in such morose ways.”

I then stopped in my tracks with realization beyond epiphany pronounced with the grip of pain in my chest.

I barely felt the pain of my knees meeting the paved sidewalk as my mind demonstrated a tremendous want of leaving with the sensation of being lifted from the top of my skull.

“Was I dying now?” I managed in confused thought. “Why hadn’t I considered it? Was I more in meaning among this rabble and horde of creatures called humanity than even those detestable sorts chasing the estates of others? Why shouldn’t I be dying? I am sure…” I then began to stammer in my own mind, “…that in the eyes of those having violated and mutilated the youthful body now bagged as miscellaneous parts somewhere…” I again grasped for breath, “that I have truly never lived… even, quite sadly, to the degree as that of their most recent victim in the experience they acquired with demise.”