They haunt me still, the scenes of panicked chase. Chase, fall, kill. A suede neck gone limp. Wide staring eyes unseeing, nose twitching, the relaxed pause of a killer catching his breath, licking his lips.
(more) The price for watching The Wonderful World of Disney-an hour of educational television beforehand- made it hard to sleep. No amount of Herbie the Love Bug could stamp out the voice of Marlin Perkins, the heart-pounding chase and the inevitable blood-streaked grasses.
I watched Tinkerbell wave her wand around the opening credits and felt my neck. There were ropy things in there. The same ropy things that held the gazelle's head to her body? Pictures of bloody neck ropes and those big scared eyes and the frantic running filled my head for days afterward.
It was the only time we got to eat in front of the TV. We ate popcorn and apples and watched with rapt attention as terror unfolded, knees buckled, flesh tore. (less)
Clutching knees beneath a translucent bag, she was rolled up into a monument of human suffering. There she sat cold and heaped in the corner of a park.
With no hands outstretched or voice calling she was begging for the dignity that we would not afford her.
She, the cold and wet, whom the sheltered and warm would walk around timidly. Without saying so the people were excusing themselves. Putting up walls before compassion and mercy.
Having done it to herself we need not deign to help her through suffering. We who have made our way properly through these corporate and bureaucratic channels.
It is not the case that she was beautiful. Perhaps but she did not show us her face.
This is written in the name of the grotesque.
In the hope that someone will hear these words and see the beauty in compassion or the glory in mercy.
These two virtues oft extolled but rarely exercised.
Extolled as they gift a person with the sense that they are virtuous and superior. Exercised rarely as they require beautiful behavior in the face of grotesque experiences.
This woman, balled up and suffering as she was, taught a lesson.
That we are more concerned with ourselves and our things than with the suffering of others. We would rather cultivate and defend our own sense of dignity than offer dignity to those who have shamed themselves. That we would plea for mercy but not grant it to those who have wronged us.
I am no better. I passed her by just as everyone else did.
I take it as a lesson just as I wish for others to do so.
Don't praise Jesus if you don't follow him. Don't take refuge in the Buddha if you don't believe in the Dhama.
In closing month of Great Patriot War, in hospital Comrade Doctor run out of bandages and lifeblood for fellow comrades of the Motherland. Then, fascist dog shells aggress against hospital and power go out. Doctor yell at Gypsy to get power running, but nothing work. Doctor shoot Gypsy, then(more) singlehanded treat every patient in hospital, because Comrade Doctor great example to productivity of Soviet Motherland.
In morning, soldiers wake up and find wounds dressed with human skin. Find Doctor dead in cot, his skin all peel off. Scream in horror. Know nothing about great resourcefulness of Comrade Doctor for benefit of great Motherland. Commissar summoned to award Comrade Doctor for resourcefulness.
Commissar see Comrade Doctor sleeping in cot. Commissar shoot Comrade Doctor. Doctor fell asleep on cot that should have been used by wounded soldier! Doctor's death is punishment for his selfishness! Soldiers shot for being treated by traitor to Soviet cause! NO BROTHER OF GLORIOUS SOVIET STATE ACCEPT HELP FROM TRAITOR!(less)