Manic Expression 31 Days of Halloween (Day 9): Paint a Picture No. 52 (3/3)

They say it takes a steady hand to be a doctor, to be able to do impossible things. In the brinks of saving and ending a life. It’s mostly to just cut the cord of life, and the body just simply stops breathing. A wonder and an half for thrills to be filled.

As those eyes that were once bright with life, seem so dull now, staring off to space where in seeing the last moment, before them meant something. In ways for it to be sad, one couldn’t come close in sharing that sentiment in pieces. For that’s how the next steps need to be taken care of now.

Outlining the fair flesh, seeing it blue hue death stain through the skin, in the passing hours. For a full breakdown to be taken place, it must be handed in that of off hours. Where a steady hand doctor takes on better hobbies, that most won’t outright pay. Once everyone is away for the night, and the bodies in tend to be cool down below.

Play time will soon come. In a short matter of hours, deep in the cold and darkly lit room, almost brighten by if it was candles, but more of the union being cheap as usual. It’s crimes to that which leads to the more larger crimes, though what is to come soon, is not a crime.

It’s a passion to satiate the mind, so the union can keep using their puppets, as they see fit. Out of so many cells to choose from now, and hours alone to spend as please, just sends a new kind of tingle to give. The newest body is wise, still fresh enough for the tendons to be thick and less musk of decay.

Prep and sterilization is the next key here, with fixated hands and tools to use. Disrobed of cloth, to ensure nothing caught later. Between the living and death, now of blissful moments to come, it is time.

First, let’s one start on where the lines etched out for a blade to glide across. Excitement is now growing, for now in choosing a blade is the hardest. Does one go for skinning to the meat and bones or go a much more dramatic raw emotion.

Yes, that’s where it goes. Starting with blood thick. A few pokes, large to small, holes to slits, to it drain. Worries of the jolt nerves are not needed here. It’s almost like cream in a way, rich in copper and a dye of red not found in nature.

Normal nature that is. To just let trembling fingers to dance around the goodness and sweetness here, one would be a idiotic monkey to miss out on it. It’s only a moment on the lips, just a couple of sips, where it could lead in a few rips to release the beast out. Shame comes and goes, but still the night is young. Refusing to wait on an eclipse or the damn apocalypse for legal rights to go out the window.

The night is here and it will be own. Now for the deboning and tendon teasing, just akin to a thankful feast here. No different from a turkey or fish. A quick clean and wash, and the saw is next, the upper half of the torso and face is lovely, just like the books as the body stares in a forever unware shock. Though those broken, ugly, useless limbs had to go.

A kick or a punch, which one is the lesser of two evils here. Hands so dainty while legs so firm of a worker. Another pen mark made, just above the near, aligned with a wider and sharper blade now. And just set it into motion. Shivering from the crunches and waterlogged overripe fruits, meshing together in a brown and chucky soup.

Odd bruising is shown, no matter, hardly a noticed, for the next leg. Having the arms next. More in motion just passed the shoulder, more bone means less cracks. No smaller specks to worry in cleaning.

A sudden lost in grip and a vein, so fresh by the fountain spout of it, paints the still living fresh. Culmination runs so freely downward through within and out of the pleased living, unnoticed before, but still so soothing.

Back to work to this masterpiece here. The remaining body would be ready for the study class with ease, while the personal memories go elsewhere. Away into a personal haven, that no one would ever know of. A quick clean once more and ruined cloth tossed halfhearted to the treasures. That in time will grow more and more, as the union couldn’t know, for they never did before.

Why would outsiders to this, start now, when they too seek out thrills the same, and want results that pay more than money could ever do. And that desire will never be hungered so quickly.

 

 

 

Anatomical Pieces by Théodore Géricault or Jean Louis Théodore Géricault
Painted in the year; 1819
Location when painted; France

 

 

 

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