playing dead

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The buzzard that had been circling over her head, swooped down and, with a loud flapping of its black wings, perched itself on the tombstone.

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The ugly bird gazed at Ruthie with a glint of hunger satisfied in its primitive eyes and spoke, “You were a feast, my darling, a real feast.”

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“What?” gasped Ruthie.

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“When I sank my talons into your warm-blooded flesh and tore out your entrails and gobbled them up,” quoth the buzzard…

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“My God, the juicy chunks and silky shreds slid down my throat like little goddesses of tonsil delight on tobaggans, landed in my ecstatic belly and ~”

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Ruthie picked up a rock and threw it at the fucking bird.  Missed.  She picked up another rock.

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The cowardly scavenger flew off and left the road princess alone, staring at her back-road grave.

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oh

holy ghost

Sophia

shed thy light into our souls

engrave thy law in our hearts

inflame us with the flame of thy love

open to us the treasures of thy graces

please

!

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model: feodor kiselev, dirtyangels.net / art: poussin’s assumption of the virgin