Flash Fiction: Post-Mortem
On the medical examiner’s table: Women’s bodies. Wolves’ bodies. Rigor-mortis limbs like life-size dolls. Blood-matted fur flayed over blinding-bright silver. Sterile crucifix, its cleansing come too late. Antiseptic room, tile echoes, fluorescent lights. Lysol lining throat and nose. A territory for the masked and shielded. The antithesis of dark, tangled forests and the smell of earth. Of gritty asphalt alleys and the odour of rot. Of plush carpeted bedrooms and vanilla-sce