Wheeling Gull Isle commune

pardon me, i am insanely rusty <3

like the stone-cut sphinx - body of something beastly, head of something transcended - it laid on the land bridge, facing the opposing shore. 

low tide would reveal it, the moist sand road, at intervals the hook-pulled tissue hadn't cared to figure. whenever it appeared, the corpse found itself near.

so easy to walk away. curl up and rot somewhere there would be no temptation to keep up the mimicry of life. a paw before the other, and the good father's herd would be a ridiculous memory - soon smothered by a rotting mass.

so why not leave? why not do so?

the corpse contemplated the misfirings of its ions, stony and still like thousand-years dead pharaoh.

( what humor it'd be, for its nose to fall off from rot at that very moment. )