Random

It began oddly. After the shock we were just sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at the table in front of us, completely in silence. That had been the scenery for couple of good minutes. The wooden floor was warm; the heater had finally started to work after kicking it enough for the last few days. A lonely fly was circling the room lazily. It landed on the table; we saw it rub its feet together. Christophe pushed his hand into his pocket and snatched a cigarette and a lighter. I closed my eyes and let my head slump against his shoulder. A warmth from the lighter wafted on my face and I smelled the gasoline. The cigarette's glow showed through my eyelids and I heard the little crackling when the tobacco leaves burned and made a white smoke trail in the air. I heard the fly buzz towards the body on the other side of the room.

"We should do something about that. The flies are going to attack it and I really do not like maggots on the kitchen floor." I nodded to his quiet words. I heard the shovel scrape against the floor and frowned at the noise; I knew it would leave a nasty scratch. Christophe walked up to the slightly decomposed body. He moved its head with the head of the shovel, examining where the spine would be easiest to cut through. The slime on the skin left a string attached from the body to Christophe's beloved shovel, causing him to turn up his nose in disgust. I opened my eyes and watched as the almost clean metal shined above the head like a guillotine, and thrusted through the muscle, windpipe and spine, making a squishy sound. Christophe continued to dismember the unknown male's body. I turned my head towards the ceiling, where the body had originally come from, and measured with my eyes how much of it would go under repair.

"If there is anything good in this, we now know where the awful smell has been coming from," Christophe said while cutting the right leg off of the torso. I hummed back and after a moment of silence, I asked:

"Should we let the police take care of this instead?" But as soon as those words left my mouth, I knew that we couldn't. Before Christophe could even answer the question, I continued:

"No, there'd be an investigation and they probably would find the other bodies on the backyard. That was a stupid thing to ask. I'll get the plastic bags," I said and stood up," Do you think we could fit him to the backyard too?"

"You expect me to dig the hole too, don't you? Je ne suis pas votre chien. Go dig your own holes!"

"Don't be so childish Tophe," I sighed. Christophe grunted and took the plastic bags I had fetched. He rolled the head inside the bag while he kept his own head turned away from the smell. I managed to get one arm into a bag without touching it directly; I really did not want to touch the slimy skin. We carried the body parts outside and Christophe started to dig without a word on the farthest side of the yard a grave for the man. While he worked outside I got myself a mop and a bucket, filled with water. I began to clean the slime and dust from the floor, and afterwards opened the windows to freshen up the air.

As I got rid of the mess I wondered where the body had come from. Through the ceiling, that was clear but how had it managed to get up to the attic without Christophe or me noticing. There had always been brownish green stain where the exit hole now was. Unless the body had been there before we had moved in, which wasn't so long ago, and the previous owners had left it there. The cause of death hadn't been so clear either but it wasn't a time for puzzles. The sooner we got rid of the extra body, the better.

I heard Christophe come back in as I finished mopping. We attached a black plastic bag over the hole on the ceiling; we would start to repair it tomorrow and maybe even find the reason where the body had appeared from. Christophe dusted off the table and cupboards and after it, called my name:

"Gregory." I turned my head and met his gaze. "There's some… Slime from the dead guy… On your…" he said with a frown and swiped my cheek. I kept my eyes locked to his and pursed my lips. I couldn't hold back the violent shiver going through my spine.

In the end we never found out the identity of the slightly decomposed body which kept decomposing in our backyard. Christophe tried to use his connections to find out the truth, as did I. I carved a small cross on the grave even though Christophe tried to restrain by saying it was futile. As always, I didn't listen to his God-hating speech and to annoy him even more, I planted a small rose bush next to it. Nowadays it's blooming next to the unknown man, showing its blood red petals with pride. Even though he might not see it, I hope it gives him some comfort in the underworld.

This is the beginnning of my random drabbels I happen to write once in a while. This is also an essay for English so if my teach happens to see this IT HAS NOT BEEN COPIED!

I'm not completely satisfied with this but... I haven't figured out what is wrong, other than that it's way too SHORT! Dammit.

I disclaim for once everything else than the storyline :D I don't always remember to do that :P

Oh and the little French parti is in English: I'm not your dog, for anyone who is too lazy to Google :D

The next one is half done, except I don't know if I should make Christophe leave or submit to his horrid fate. Any ideas? OR I could do both endings :D