Pushing pulling, falling down. Drowning out the sound.
It echoes in my head, like the drumbeat of the dead.
I see the panther as it stalks. Creeping across the forest floor. Waiting until the moment’s right. It will pounce and strike. Its claws reaching out, its teeth gnashing and tearing at the flesh, pulling apart the seams.
We watch the chaos ensue, as it drags it in front of us. Its violent dance, it will not get another chance.
We turn to the next one, waiting for it to clear, a child staring in the mirror. Its face gaunt and dirt smeared by tears.
Seeing the rhythm of its pain, the child gasps a final breath. We watch enthralled by the emotion, we see the last draw. We can’t stand to look, but still we do. Waiting for another rapid emotion to come through.
Seeing this pain without a name. We feel its pain, we surrender to be tamed. We can’t feel the never ending desire of a child’s pain.
Its parents gone, its siblings no longer there. There is smoke still in the air. It rises and falls as the child breaths that last gasp, we try to turn away, but can’t move. We see another breath drawn, until it’s too late, and the child’s gone.