When in my own murder scene two old odd ladies happened to be there nearby making a nod and a discourse of the scene. I just thought as I glanced that they were familiar. One has taken to dying. I thought and dying is mean and ugly, but wish I knew who the odd ladies were.
It was half past one and the day was sunny and there was nothing to do but to stop the knifing on myself. I could not the man held me in a grip but what followed was more terrible than all the other things.
The bikers and the motorcycles adding to the traffic the cruelty of them careering round and round as if the whole thing a bull fight a sport.
When I could have died and died there the thing which kept me alive was love. I do not know how it seems to everyone the twittering on about love from someone so old.
There that walk which took place when I was knifed was so slow because I noted everything. The whole process of the friendly shades who stood by and watched while I supposedly died.
"Do not handle the handkerchiefs. There no need it is useful to know to realise that we all live in danger and know where it is we stand. I understood I stood aloof and alone."
"The agony of his cry." I thought with satisfaction.
"The indifference of the tow truck as they towed twenty cars in one go. Suppose they were selling tickets in order that the wretched Turks could watch,
No most definitely did not think the police would solve this scene so went and did it myself. In these hard times when the average intelligence cannot catch on what the master criminals are up to every victim must do their worse. That is solve their own murders. And if someone does knock on wood and produce diamonds well it will benefit the system and we can all go golfing.
I saw the two odd dears in there and how did they come to that scene at that moment and were close and talking? In fact how were they transported and how did they find out about the killing? Beamed I suppose. Somehow these Turks always know each others business. I wished they had told me so I could have avoided the whole thing.
The thoughts did and did for me. Their faces were not in the sun they were in there but somehow not there as if in the depths of shadow and their images were of thin odd ladies who kept good clothes and did not mind a mindless woman walking in blood and gore trying to smile as her face had been slit and her sides were bleeding to. But they just stood there.
They just stood there for what it was known as the old library. Their attitude one of hope and hope it appealed to them for some mercy even understanding they turned their heads around so that my appeal did not reach them.
Dry and sticky and then my mouth so dried. I did nothing to say the worst thing had happened and then thought that it always was this thing inside me which said the worst days of my life were not over.