I shone the light over the dark sludge covered mass. It was as I had thought, road kill or rather a breath of life barely holding on. Too big to be a rabbit, maybe a small fox? The silhouette looked wrong though, even from this angle. I moved closer, picking up a rock. The light shifted catching the reflection of two large dark eyes. It was a badger, struck earlier, maybe hours ago, maybe minutes. All that time, fighting for life, pulling itself to the side of the road, dirty and sodden.
And suddenly I saw Angela, her head in the same place, her body contorted, weak and broken. But she was like this animal, still hanging onto life, agonising screams, yet only breaking as whimpers. And I felt the return of her, the pain and anguish, the regret, the slow deafening silence.
âFUCK!â I yelled. Not to alert anyone, the road was deserted. And not now for loss or any logical reason but to know that I was alive. To prove I was still, still present, still one of the living, not broken, not resting on a crevice of life and death. And suddenly I was screaming out again. This time for everything, a voice for every tortured soul, every silenced creature on this cursed planet.
I lifted up the stone and took its weight above my shoulder. It shouldnât suffer. No more. It was barely moving, the fight had long gone. It didnât flinch as I moved towards it, but its eyes stared coldly at me, defiant.
Thud. The stone hid the mud, bounced a little and rolled into the undergrowth. And I sat down in the rain, an arms distance from it, from this decaying thing.
It looked at me now, confused and I laughed out loud at this thought. It couldnât understand. How could it? The complexed endeavours of a mans mind. The stone would crush its head, killing it instantly, ending its bleak existence. But it would also destroy its features, its beauty.
I stared at it for a few moments, the wet starting to penetrate my jeans. It shouldnât suffer. A car drove by, the driver craning his head to see what I was doing, but not curious enough to stop.
And so I got up, walked back to the car and opened the boot. I took out a pair of old gloves and two black bin liners. The gloves werenât really necessary, it didnât have any fight left in it as I slipped the 2 bags over its mouth and nose and gazed deep into its eyes.
Slowly I twisted the bags, wrapping them around the creatures neck. I stared at its chest for what felt an eternity, mesmerised as it continued to rise and fall and then stop.
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From the book âThe Photographerâ by Dragons4thesoul
