The Photo
The only body I've seen in real life is that of my uncle, and that was at his funeral so it's not much of a story. There is one other body that haunts me continuously, though.

He's an old man. He sits upright in his armchair, and you would think he was having a nap if not for the revolver in his lap and the neat little hole in his temple, bleeding not as profusely as you would think. The peaceful look on his face betrays the way he must have felt when he was alive.

I discovered him one day while sorting through one of the massive boxes of black and white photos my dad (a photojournalist) has accumulated over the years - of news events, friends and family, cats, total strangers, and one of Evel Knievel, I think.

When I found him, it shocked me, and I'm not one to be shocked by these sort of things. At the time I didn't know that my dad used to work for the county coroner, so I had no idea why such a picture was in our house. I stared for a long time before reluctantly putting him back.

I constantly wonder who he was and why he did it. I'm too scared to ask my dad about it. It distresses me some days, but otherwise he just sits there in the back of my mind. In his armchair.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Fri 29 Feb 2008, 0:29, Reply)