Posted by Dr. Radium on July 07, 2001 at 16:30:35:
PHOTO ONE: a woman, tall and beautiful, wearing only a white halter top and shorts, standing straight and rigid, as if
called to attention. She might be eighteen, certainly no more than twenty-one. Her skin is the colour of rich dark
chocolate, her body well developed. There is just enough muscle tone in her long arms and legs to enhance her beauty
without making her too masculine. She might be an athlete or a fitness model. Her strong hands are clutching the shaft
of a blue arrow that juts from the precise front and centre of her long neck. Her wide eyes and round, open mouth
reveal more shock and surprise than pain, and her stare is fixed in astonished disbelief on the feathers of the arrow.
There is a tiny red trickle running down her throat from the wound, beginning to spread into the fabric of the halter top.
PHOTO TWO: a side view of the same woman. Her hands are still locked around the arrow. The side view reveals that
the arrow has passed completely through her throat; its tip sticks out a good three inches from the back of the woman’s
neck, dripping blood. The front of her halter top is a deep red. Her breasts are easily visible beneath the ensanguined
fabric, nipples hard. Her knees are slightly bent now; her whole body, in fact, seems to be sagging. Her expression has
changed completely; now her mouth hangs lethargically open, blood trickling over the lower lip, while her cloudy eyes
are unfocused, staring without seeing anything at all.
PHOTO THREE: a blurry image of the woman as she falls forward, hands dropping away from the arrow at last.
PHOTO FOUR: she is sprawled on her side on a tennis court, or a deserted street somewhere in the city. Her face is
slightly turned toward the camera, glassy eyes still staring, just a little crossed; bloody mouth still hanging open, just the
tip of the tongue lolling from the side. Her arms are bent at the elbows, her fingers are outstretched, as if still reaching
for the killing arrow. Her legs are spread wide, urine pooling on the asphalt between them. Her feet are large and
beautifully formed, with long slim toes that are slightly curled. Fingernails and toenails are both painted red.
PHOTO FIVE is a similar shot, from a different angle. There is a fly perched on the woman’s unblinking, unseeing right
eye.
PHOTO SIX is an office building, a glass and metal monolith reflecting the vicious noonday sun.
PHOTO SEVEN is of a white woman in her late thirties or early forties, very professional-looking, just getting out of a
car, maybe a BMW or Mercedes. Her blonde hair is cropped short, her blue eyes are narrowed, her features are set in
slight annoyance. Maybe she is late for an appointment. She holds a briefcase in one hand. Though she is not as
conventionally beautiful as the woman of the first five photographs, there is a certain erotic sensuality about her that is
evident even in this picture.
PHOTO EIGHT: the same woman, the same camera angle, but now a few inches of the shaft of a blue arrow protrudes
from the spot where her soft white neck joins her right shoulder. It has buried itself deep in her voluptuous body, without
doubt skewering heart and lungs as it sank into her warm, sensual flesh. Sudden, shattering pain has destroyed her professional veneer, is
etched in her face; her lovely mouth is open, soundlessly crying out as she sobs like a little girl who is suffering and
doesn’t understand why or how. Her eyes are squeezed shut; tears leak from beneath the eyelids and roll down her
cheeks, ruining her carefully applied makeup. She is still half in, half out of the car; one hand is clenched tight around the
steering wheel, the other is outstretched, fingers splayed wide. Gold rings glitter on her fingers and a gold watch or
bracelet encircles her wrist. The briefcase is a dark blur flung from her hand.
PHOTO NINE: a blurry shot of the woman falling to the ground, car door swinging open wide.
There are no other photographs.
At least not in this dark, empty place.
But somewhere out there, perhaps somewhere near you, a camera waits for the flight of an arrow.