i tell her im sorry

after the fact

laying there bleeding

flat on her back

her face isnt a face

but instead a painting of fear

i kneel down to her

and wipe her blood like a tear

but where to hide her

in the woods? no

i want to keep her

but no one can know

i didnt mean to kill her

but these things go too far

i just wanted a friend

but things fall apart

so i take her head

and give the rest to the pigs

she'll be preserved

and pretty like this

PART TWO:

Kathy...

Kathy..

Kathy.

Kathy!

The sudden realization that someone had been calling out her name made her body tremble not from the cold June weather, but that something was amiss. She tried to look around and see who was calling her, alas that did not work. The moment that she tried to scream, not even a single peep emerged from her oval-shaped cavity. She began to panic now, and convulsed , too. She collapsed onto the floor in agonizing pain.

Kathy. The voice called out, for the umpteenth time.

Her hands moved toward her face, and she felt like she was going to start wailing. Where her eyes, nose, and mouth had been- she found that either someone had used magick to make them vanish, or somebody had wished them away. The latter was something she could not imagine, or the former, really. What in the world had happened to her body, and to her dismay, her face was missing its main features.

The last thing that she could recall was that she had been so excited to be travelling to Livingstone for the 2023 June Scientists conference where everything that the invited guests needed such as: housing, food, funds to afford sightseeing, and going on tours, that had all been covered by generous donors from the Trong International Scientists Organization (TISO).

Kathy moved her hands to grab a hold of her fanny pack. Oh dear. She always had it around her waist. Did she forget it at the Livingstone International Lodge (LIL), or somewhere near the Livingstone museum? No. That was not right.

Then Kathy at last began to have flashbacks of what had happened at midnight. There she stood at the edge of the Mosi-oa-Tunya. She had ended up cutting herself, and later slipped, falling into the roaring waters that appeared like smoke not too far from the mighty waterfall.

Kathy felt the presence of something guiding her. Where was it taking her? She only remembered bits, and pieces of what had happened to her when she arrived in Livingstone. Now this thing was pulling her somewhere, and she could not even see where they were going. She felt a sudden other cold touch. Was this thing trying to take over her body, or something else had touched her?

The only thing that she knew for sure was that she needed to figure out a way to at least find out who had taken her face, and why. This was driving her crazy. She also hoped that it was not too late to try and save herself before the Grim Reaper, including the ancestral spirits, would try to drag her away from the land of the living.

Kathy heard the sound of a soothing, calm, gentle voice near her. This voice was not like the one she had heard at first. It felt like she was being reminded not to worry, and that they would be working to help her find out who, or what had killed her.

This made Kathy's heartbeat much more regularly now. Maybe things would work out after all, and she did not have to worry too much about trying to figure out why she was even standing at the edge of the Mosi-oa-Tunya late at night, all by herself. Then she suddenly remembered that that night she did also feel many eyes keeping track of her movements. Or had that been just a figment of her imagination. Her thoughts were certainly driving her mad. Maybe she had fallen into a rabbit hole like Alice, and was still trapped in Wonderland.

#...---...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_14cb1xCY-4.

27.06.2023

(All Rights Reserved)

She stood at the edge of the Mosi-oa-Tunya. The mighty waters created by the Livingstone ancestral spirits roared with such a powerful force, but Kathy was not going to let that stop her from jumping into the magickal waters that some had told her granted one eternal youth. She closed her eyes, and clasped her palms. Then said a quick prayer. "Grant me eternal youth, o great ancestors. I only have this..." She took out a small blade from her fanny pack made from the fabrics imported all the way from Trong. Underneath the moonlight's night glow, she gazed in awe at the trickle of blood pouring from the cut she made in her right palm. She winced.

When she looked around, and over the other point of the mighty waters, many beastly eyes were staring right back at her. They glowed with a dark crimson hue, and then she heard a piercing howl coming from behind her. This startled her, and she slipped falling into the arms of the smoking water that sounded like thunder.

The next day, a young man who was kayaking along the bottom of the waterfall stumbled upon her body. He screamed, and alerted the authorities.

The local news channel, Livingi 1, who had been dying for a hit story rushed to the scene and caught footage of their latest of what was trending, and happening in the tourist capital of Livingstone.

The young man was speechless. The local news channel broadcasting team and the reporters had tried to ask him to explain what had happened. The only thing that he kept repeating was: "Her face's gone. Her entire face's gone. Her face's not there. Her face's missing."

The reporting crew sighed. This was not going to work, maybe they would wait for a little while before they asked the man to further elaborate, and if he knew what had brought about the death of the faceless Jane doe.

The police officers after a thorough investigation were pleased to report that they at least knew the Jane doe's name, Katherina Bwalya.

Her body was left at the morgue. Once there, the investigation would begin on trying to figure out what caused Katherina's death, and how she died.

The detective called in for the case was Jane Chintu. She had graduated top of her class from the Livingstone Detective and Investigative Academy (LDIA). This case rattled every bone in her body. This was nothing like most of the cases she had had to solve during her internship with the police in her final semester at the academy. For this one, she would have to end up using the local resources to try and figure out what exactly was going on here. Quite alright her methods relied on a blend of the methodologies of deduction learned at the academy, including various legends of the peculiar happenings, or going-on's that took place near the magickal Mosi-oa-Tunya.

Her partner, Daniel Sekelani, grinned. "I see the spark in your eyes, Ms. Chintu!"

Jane smiled, and replied, "Oh, Daniel, please just call me Jane.

"Yes, of course." As she said this, she raised a fist, and punched the air with gusto. "You already know that I am determined, and ready to find out what happened to Kathy."

"So," Daniel spoke almost in a whisper,"do you think 'twas a ghost that..." He moved his hands and acted as if he was choking himself.

"Please." Jane said as she rolled her eyes. "There are no such things as ghosts, Daniel."

Daniel stared and froze in place. Jane walked ahead, and then noticing that her partner was not by her side, she turned around to face him. "Hey." She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Stop being a joker. Let's get to work."

Mr. Sekelani burst out laughing, and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Alright. I promise I will stay alert, and focused on this case." He grinned, and slipped his hands into the pockets of his thick cold season jacket.

"The police officers mentioned that when the found her body, and took it to the morgue something peculiar happened....

"The only thing that Kathy had across her face when she was pulled out from the bottom of the waterfall was three dots, three dashes, and another set of three dots.."

#...---...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9A3tBINRdiE.

26th June, 2023.

i ask myself who i'd be

if i didnt commit that night

to do what i said id do

who says what wrong and right

"she was innocent" they say

"did nothing wrong at all"

my sister would sing a different tune

but the judge makes the final call

blood on the walls

out of mr clean magic erasers

she lays there lifeless

eyes void of emotion

a smile still plastered on her face

only minutes ago lips parted

and screams echoing in this shed

i use paper towels to clean her up

for her photo shoot, i set

her up like a perfect doll

in her pink dress

i do her makeup with help from a youtube tutorial

i'll keep her like this as long as i can

pretty

perfect

and obedient

The fifth Alice was a lonely girl from Wonderland

She walked, around all alone, nobody in hand

Her only desire was to finally be adored

And at last, she got her wish, and was never bored

But soon all the attention made her wish that they were dead

Once again, her wish was granted and all of them bled

Alice ran into the woods and was never see again

Sometimes you still hearing her crying in the lonely rain

The fifth Alice was a girl around fifteen years of age

Songs spewing from her mind outside world's cage

Inspiration was something she could always find

In every corner of her brilliant mind

Then Alice, looked for stories in Wonderland

But nothing went as she had planned

Alice had not once thought of those green with envy

Only looking ahead to accomplish all her dreams

So while the girl in purple walked down the path of red

They jumped to steal her stories and to cut off her own head

Smash it to the

Ground

and

Watch

it burn down

Kill them

all

Quickly

or

Watch

Them

die slow

Run Away Fast

Better Leave Now

take your knife

take their souls

Burn everything they own

As the story begins...

Each horse claims a child and each child claims a horse.

Shiny and sleek and speedy and steedy,

To cover vast distance without traveling.

Counter-clockwise rotations thrum showy,

Counting the right-handed children--

Counter-intuitive to the turn of a screw.

The sinister accept a dominant-hand world,

Reach harder for brass rings, but ignore the effort,

Arriving coincident with those who list starboard.

Standing-start vacuum collapses tintinnabulate

And ancient wiring sets ancient gears in motion--

Millenary crankshafts spur gallops.

The air bellows through wooden pipes and valves,

Lungs that wheeze melodic for the hangers-on;

A platen below turns in hoof steps with the music.

Sight and sound miscible with the air

Of winds forced through sieves making euphony:

This contraption lives and breathes in symbiosis with parasites.

Tiddlers and tykes follow pistons up and down,

Jockey in circuitous obedience hither and thither

To equestrian highs and lows and Coriolis thrills.

An island of the real world lies inert in the eye

The center hiding the masterminds of the spin--

Carneys with eyes and thoughts elsewhere from the eyewall.

Oblivious faces delighted to the motion

And the machinations of sound and variegation,

Noisy with steampunk rotodynamics.

As the story goes...

A different storm brews in friction--circuits, short;

Portentous ozone inundates the ambience

As precipitous circumnavigators ride into the sunset, on fire.

Sirens play with ill winds, blowing amok,

Teasing with news eclipsing wars and famines and acts of God--

No details, just that a place-for-children, burns.

Terror without details capitalizes Terror--

Don't even think that My God! don't even--

Everyone rushing to the circus of horror.

Attracting saviors like a spinning black hole

Of conflagration and tragedy,

The fireline intensity luring the perimeter of crown scorch.

Through the flames--movement!

A stampede of lifestock running for their lives;

Who do they carry into that sunset--will it ever set?

Calor and dolor and punksteamroller

Radiates a broil at kW per meter--the brilliance of physics,

Unrestrained, blinds hosers and stokers.

All there with fire's enemy, give and take,

A tug-o'-war over a pit of pedicide?

Back and forth and maybe and maybe not...

As the story unfolds...

Conflagration--hopeless; noble steeds' fusion,

A round sarcophagus of ceramic, fiberglass...and flesh?

Don't even think that My God! don't even--

Each horse claims a child and each child claims a horse

Some horrors are juggernauts that bring up supper

And the bile that comes after

And the soul that follows, to die,

Due to thoughts of miniature corpses clinging desperately

To their noble steeds' necks, molten together.

As the story ends...

The children all cried when the carousel burned down. I, too,

Because it was closed that night--I cried for days,

Otherwise catatonic in intolerable gratitude to this universe.

************************

This is based on a microfiction (https://theprose.com/write?postId=739380) I wrote that went nowhere.

I figured maybe verse might capture the emotions better. The thought of children dying is the most horrible thing any parents could contemplate. [spoiler:] Turning it around to a happy ending of gratitude for lives spared seemed the perfect solution to evoke the emotion without actually succumbing to painful thoughts. This turns it from what was lost to what's at stake and worth celebrating every otherwise insignificant day.

The microfiction piece as well as this poem inspired by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcRm7hgpaXY.