Breathe Upon Spring Meadows

I had watched her there, watched the mound slowly erode over and the soil turn green with fauna. There was something so beautiful about her decay that I could picture her very skin sliding from her bones and the Earth churning her innards back into it as nutrients to supplement the growth of green and wildflowers.

May marked the first of that hot summer day, when the first set of heat wrestled upon us and broke down the locals into sheltering inside, a little earlier than usual this year. The electric companies were having fits, but Jeanne would know none of that. No, for her, she was already resting in the damp soil beneath the empty plot a few acres South of the neighborhood where developers would be prospecting in the coming three years after the petitions were through from the neighbors, and all assessments were to be completed. Assessments, which would be around the time everyone forgot the project even existed in the first place. Only then would they would finally dig her up.

I had contemplated being the one to lay her out in the street, in the road, so someone might discover her, but I feared of the desecration of her corpse by some idiotic car passing her over and then breaking her delicate body apart. I didn't want to know she was dissected by some medical practitioner or whoever the likes does that either.

No. I wanted her intact, where I could pass by her and see what progress she had fueled from Nature's express desire to utilize her in better ways than some expensive lacquer coffin. I wished she were alive too, but we were much too late for that. No, instead she was dead. Dead and gone, but so was her murderer. For it was not myself, but the drunkard piece of shit I regularly requited ought to have been dead long ago. He was dead though. Now. And that was another reason she couldn't be dug up, because if she was - oh and if she was - then they might be able to discern the marks that bastard left upon her. They might even be able to find the tattered bits of her dress covered in blood at her stomach where she had clutched what would have been a baby.

I wish it were my baby, but she wasn't unfaithful and despite it all, my pot boiled over when he struck her for the last time at the end of this Northern winter. Still, despite our entire situation, I hardly had much of a record and she was just another human that once walked the plains of mortality where I did not. Murder. True murder, was no pinnacle of my time and species and I would never beget the thought of turning to it if my frustrations saw fit. No, but I would delight in the bits and pieces the police were probably still turning up of what I sprinkled across the highways and down dark alleys of the piece of shit I was slowly tearing apart up until the beginning of Spring. The one I had killed, then brought back for the sole purpose of dismembering him as his mind turned from alcohol to blood lust then to pure and agonizing Hunger as I kept him barely on until he wasn't alive or undead anymore. You could say he was a poor bastard, you could pity him, but I am not you and you are not me.