There was a naked man in the river with clumps of black mud gently slithering along his bony torso. He was perfectly still under the clean summer night sky.
The man had an empty blank stare on his face. Like a paused simulation, although a simulation he was not. Inside his bony chest a small red heart pumped away spurred on by a hungry pair of lungs…or at least it did before it happened, now it was for anyone to guess.
You see… In the short moment, just between the cicada’s cry and the crow’s death, the silver silhouette of his body suddenly dragged itself inwards with a crack.
All his bones broke in unison and his eyes rolled off.
Entrails and pale skin revolved within the shallow waters of the river for a while. It was a like a thoughtful confirmation, but then, just like the night, so did they disappear. It was almost like the planet itself had sucked him in. Cleaning. Rearranging. Taking control.
All the while he didn’t make a single sound and neither did I.