ASHES ON BLOODY BONE

Page 1

ASHES

BLOODY BONE

A Short Fiction

In Celebration

The Fall Season

David A. Archer

02/15/1968

09/13/2006

Page 2

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

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

Page 3

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.

Page 4

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

Page 5

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

Page 6

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?

Page 7

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.

Page 8

“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.

Page 9

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

Page 10

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

Page 11

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.”