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with intent by Simon GibsonSUMMARY: theres a little bit of frome where you could hide a body, just a bush and a fence, and this ewas the result of seeing it.
As I walked home that day I saw it. The coldness with which others who had passed the scene was that which first struck me. I was surprised that the whole place was not a riot of onlookers and police, but I was surprised at how wrong my imagination had been with regards to such a thing.
As I looked, carefully at first, a deep primeval fear holding my conscious mind for a moment, I saw that the flesh was almost blue, more similar to the grey of metal. It had been there some time now, I was surprised that it had not been seen sooner, the hand clamped around thin air. I looked harder at the appendage; it was, mercifully, still attached.
As I noticed the hand, and took a greater freedom in satisfying my morbid interest, I saw that the rest of the corpse was hidden under a bin liner. The body had been hidden, I was sure of this now, that this was no accident, and in this I was afraid. The idea of murder, that actual intended death-laden act, filling me with a short-lived fear of my own loneliness, my own frailty against the world. This soon passed and my obsessive quest for knowledge continued. However frail my soul was toward such a task I was determined to see more of this horrific thing.
No longer a person, man or woman, but a body, which lay in front of me.
Knowing that I should not touch it, knowing also, that were the situation different, I would want someone to touch me, to find me, to bury me, this urge to help one who was as beyond help as the corpse was a difficult one. I had never turned away, much like a good Samaritan, but still, I must resist.
The night had provided whoever had done this with good cover, there was little chance of the body having been found the night of the killing. The location was such that the chances of it being found by chance were extremely remote, the location of the body was also one which would have most likely have been overlooked by any passers-by or police, the actual placing of the corpse being so obvious. Much the same as if you are looking for something and it is right in front of your face, you will not usually find it. It was strange then that I had found such a thing, the randomness of the event having overtaken my imagination with such hypothetical thinking that I was pained to think otherwise.
In my inquisition of the situation I had failed to check the time, it was this lack of observation that had got me into thinking that there must be something that I could do, other than phone the police, in order to help this unfortunate who had been killed and dumped, I suspected, here like a piece of rubbish.
I then, in my irrational sense of justice and morbid fascination, decided to see what gender the corpse was, and to what degree nature had taken its course.
Slowly moving towards the corpse I went. I then heard a noise from behind, it was some way off, but I heard it all the same. Quickly, and for a reason that I was unsure of, I moved away from the body, and continued on my original direction, past the dead person, just like anyone else, ignorant, uncaring and unseeing.