Mors Errat

In the middle of a gas station parking lot at 2 am on a Saturday, Anthony’s empty body rests on it’s right side. The red that consumed his shirt is slowly pulling away, revealing the white cotton that once resided in its place. Below his head rests a lake of blood that flows up into his mouth like a serpent of life; while the ocean at his stomach seems to be shrinking by the second.

Twenty feet behind Anthony’s flowing body, an unknown man with scratches all over his head creeps backwards towards the body of Anthony. Just before he reaches Anthony, he…