The Hotel room was large, double bed, two signle beds, en suet bathroom, fridge, phone, sliding windows, veranda, break fast bar, kitchenette. Spacious…lots of light and air.
A woman lies on her bed soaked in rose red blood. Her chest has been opened like a can of beans, quite what the reason is hard to say. Her head has been crushed like a large cantaloupe Melon, with what, we can only imagine by a gun, as there is some splatter. She is truly dead. She felt no pain. Chloroform put to sleep before the slaughter. Unoriginal…but it worked all the same.
A fat man by the name of, Edward Longfellow, we see his name from the badge on his shirt, sits on a chair beside a glass table with his head in a bowl of cereal and both arms hanging by his side. There is milk up his nose. Cornflakes in mouth and eyes. There is a knife sticking on the small of his keck. Like a knife protruding out from a loaf of bread. The milk and the bloody mix in the bowl and over the table. He is in shorts and t-shirt, he has a pair of blue socks on. He did not make it too work.
A boy and a girl are in the room with two single beds. The boy wears a t-shirt with the word GREAT embossed upon it in bright blue. The girl wears a short white dress with vague smears of blood. We wonder if they are responsible. We wonder if they are Brother and Sister. They are hugging and kissing…perhaps they are wait for the police to arrive and open the door and invite some fresh air into the hotel room and rinse ever so slightly the rancid smell of decay.
There are a few flies sniffing about. Viewing the exhibits. Wondering what that was all about…wondering who would do such a thing on such a glorious summer day, who would create such a scene as though normality had been silenced into question, and all along Tigers had roamed the street, fresh from some zoo, but that is another story and probably altogether a more thoughtful, truer, touching human tale.
And now someone must enter and pick up the pieces…
