C.R.A.S.H.D

My latest short from the photo prompt at The Angry Hourglass:

 

Photo by Ashwin Rao

Even though your heart is roaring in your ears you can hear the stairs creak as if you are hurting them and, looking around you, you see the trees swaying in the wind, feel the old rain drip drip dripping on your face and you wonder, as the boughs sigh, if they are mirroring your pain, or if they are only now catching their breath after a good long laugh, a trunk-aching laugh, the kind of laugh you do when you see a sight so sad and sorry that you can’t help but point at the object of your derision and I know they’re pointing at me as I take the steps, the steps toward the rickety old observation deck where this bald asshole under his stupid umbrella is taking pictures, pictures with which he, who probably knows what happened to you here, will also probably put his “stellar black and whites” on the net so everyone with sadistic devouring eyes can gobble up the images he’ll probably white-wash with names like “Ocean Overlook” or “Waves on the Beach Crashing” or maybe just even “Crash” because he, while he knows what really happened here (it was in all the papers), doesn’t want to make his sick fascination known to every other person out there with a sick fascination, the voyeurs who, while safe behind their computer screens scanning the world for the bad news so they can make themselves feel better, so they can tell themselves that their lives aren’t as bad off as others, those others, those peoples consumed by the millions who have homes and electricity and the money to pay for their computers and their internets, who cozy themselves up in the warm white glow, feeling safe from harm, like nothing as bad as this, as what happened to me, will happen to them, looking over pictures of places like these overlooking the coast, pictures like these from this very same place upon which this asshole takes his thousands of photos, this very same place where I picked up my phone when my husband called and I listened to him scream, “Come right away Sarah, Harry’s drowning!”


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