Like a spider gently weaving its web John Cusack hanged his bodies wrapped like pupas from a bridge. He loves to display his work as an art gallery for the passing cars to have something to view during their hard-working long-hour drives from work.
He stood there gazing at each pupa. He had two hanging from the bridge. One started struggling through the bag and stopped. The White fog breath left the bags when they were done with the earth. He walked over to the one still breathing. Staring at the hanging pupa with his beady eyes. Twisting his neck as an owl confused.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said as the pupa struggled. He noticed the kicks and how the bags hugged the victim’s knees wanting to be free. It was like seeing an unborn child moving inside her mother’s belly and seeing the belly shape the baby’s hands or foot. He watched it as he sat there looking at the pupa struggle and go tired.
This one had great animation. Why wouldn’t it die, he thought. His neck now bending forty-five degrees to his left. Hmm, he thought again.
He walked over to the body hanging like ripping fruit ready to be picked. He grabbed the rope and started to pull up as his palms began to turn brick red and his knuckles turning white. He pulled some more one pull over the other. The body being reeled as fish. It was a catch. A heavy one indeed.
He took his knife out and thought about stabbing the bag a bit. Perhaps a quick stab here and there would do the job and cast the bag into the sea again. Let it hang as life dripped through the cloth bag, the original moving Rorschach inkblot mask.
The body was placed above the bridge floor. He unzipped the top of the body bag, giving birth to a small little brown head. She looked scared. A young lady starting at John Cusack’s eyes.
They say a person’s eye is a window to the person’s soul, however, today John had no soul. The mask that hid his face showed he smiled. She could only see the outer edges of a face. As she struggled to wiggle her neck out of the bag as much as she could. She was catching her breath. John stood like a towering giant over. He hid the knife back into his pants and looked around the empty bridge for any passer Byers.
The coast was clear. He picked her up like a baby and like a mannequin set her straight. He unzipped her completely from top to bottom.
“Go on, scram!” he signaled the young girl to leave. “Go on, I ain’t gonna hurt you no more.” He pointed to the opposite side of the pedestrian bridge that was built over the main highway. His knife sparkled as the silver moon hit the tip.
“Come on, I ain’t got all day. You better go before I change my mind,” John said.
She bent down and began to untie the rope that held her ankles together. With her teeth, she bit the rope from her wrist. She stepped back and slipped on the wet ground. The fog started to settle knee-high. She moved away from John walking back slowly.
John kept breathing as it turned white in the night. She finally stood up and took a good look at John.
“What are you?” She said.
“Go on,” John said in a mild manner tone.
She took one last look as she ran across the bridge and disappeared. John picked up the bag and folded it to fit his jacket. He took his knife and raised it close to his face. The edge of the knife reflected a hoody floating with a headless faceless man.
“You shouldn’t have done that—John”, Death appeared speaking over John’s ear.
John kept walking the infinity bridge to the other end of the road.
“John, taking her life would have set you free,” It whispered without showing its face, but a dark cloak shadow overpowering John’s.
“I am tired, this is wrong,” He stopped and looked at his knife.
“Very well,” Death said.
“I have taken many lives and it won’t bring my family back, everyone lies. You lie.” Death gave a big scream rattling the bridge floor underneath John’s feet.
“You said if I take one more soul you will bring them back. It’s been a hundred years. A hundred souls.” John muttered. He took a deep breath, letting his lungs expand. He grabs the knife and raises it high in the air. Slowly brings it down like a heavy crane unloading a container and jams it in his throat.
A loud whistling like an inflatable being pierced through with a needle begins to come out of John. No blood just sound.
The clothes drop completely to the ground without a body in them as Death grabs his shirt. It sniffs John’s soul as a little green orb begins to enter death’s chest through his cloak. It looks back as it hears a human approaching the bridge. Death flies through the air starting at the young man approaching the pupas. It smiles waiting to turn him into its hunter he calls for Death to hear his bargain.