The Washing Up
By Morgan K Tanner
The bodies lay strewn upon one another with their already-festering wounds discharging a purelent soup. The vultures circled waiting to strike on the freshly disembowelled, the rotting viscera inviting them to feed. There was so much carnage, so much devastation it was difficult to know where to begin. These beasts had fallen serving their master, and needed to be purified so they could perform their duties once more.
As the fountain of life rained down upon them, flesh and innards were washed clean away. Chunks of muscle and sinew held on by coagulated fluids battled hard against the tide that finally forced them from the corpses. The ritual dismemberment had produced a great feast which had been consumed by their god, and its abhorrent aftermath was to be rectified by the very being that created it.
As the first stage was completed, the rotting minions had been sorted and stacked and were presented as an almost grotesque art exhibition. One by one they were brought forward to the great watery pit of the defiled and lowered into its molten depths. Lightning erupted in the skies and shot down upon the dead, breathing new life into them as their toughest battle scars were scoured away.
The proud deity admired his army. They stood drying in the hot sun and cool breeze with their skin now free from infection, their wounds closed and their bodies ready. Soon they would serve Him once again.
- - -
Morgan K Tanner is a writer, drummer and golfist currently residing in the English countryside. The quiet surroundings make it the perfect environment to write, drum and hide the bodies. The sound of the typewriter drowns out the hum of the torture equipment.
By Morgan K Tanner
The bodies lay strewn upon one another with their already-festering wounds discharging a purelent soup. The vultures circled waiting to strike on the freshly disembowelled, the rotting viscera inviting them to feed. There was so much carnage, so much devastation it was difficult to know where to begin. These beasts had fallen serving their master, and needed to be purified so they could perform their duties once more.
As the fountain of life rained down upon them, flesh and innards were washed clean away. Chunks of muscle and sinew held on by coagulated fluids battled hard against the tide that finally forced them from the corpses. The ritual dismemberment had produced a great feast which had been consumed by their god, and its abhorrent aftermath was to be rectified by the very being that created it.
As the first stage was completed, the rotting minions had been sorted and stacked and were presented as an almost grotesque art exhibition. One by one they were brought forward to the great watery pit of the defiled and lowered into its molten depths. Lightning erupted in the skies and shot down upon the dead, breathing new life into them as their toughest battle scars were scoured away.
The proud deity admired his army. They stood drying in the hot sun and cool breeze with their skin now free from infection, their wounds closed and their bodies ready. Soon they would serve Him once again.
- - -
Morgan K Tanner is a writer, drummer and golfist currently residing in the English countryside. The quiet surroundings make it the perfect environment to write, drum and hide the bodies. The sound of the typewriter drowns out the hum of the torture equipment.
