by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|“Atropos was one of the three Greek Goddesses of fate and destiny. She determined when a person would die,” explained Miss Heaven Barkley.
Harry Smith, the student brown nosing his way through her forensic pathology class, held out the surgical blade her hand requested. He knew when a question was being prompted and offered it to the formaldehyde ridden air, “What’s that got to do with science?”
Miss Heaven Barkley smiled approvingly. The forceps exchanged hands, cutting into the dead meat of ‘Doc’. the cancer ridden lung remains of what had once been living flesh. “Pathology is all about causes and results. What determined how ‘Doc’ died? Smoking four packs of cigarettes a day, is what. He controlled the moment he would die but gave that moment up to the fates. Why?”
Caught by the sudden twist in conversation forcing him to pull a magical rabbit out of an invisible hat, Harry Smith went into his standard defensive verbal maneuver, “Why?” He repeated, passing the ball back to his teacher. Sweat began dripping from the back of his neck. That had been a close call. Did Miss Heaven Barkley know?”
The cops moving into the dissection room and standing firmly at the door revealed all. “How did ‘Doc’ die?” Forensic specialist Heaven Barkley’s smile was sardonic in the way it promised to tell all. “Perhaps, you can explain what you were doing at his bedside in Saint Mary’s hospital and how he got on this examination table?” The scalpel pointed to Harry Smith.
Harry Smith had just been knocking about and then fate had struck. Wasn't he part of the medical framework? A lowly medical student seen everywhere and not at all? His answer dried on the tip of his tongue. The means of paying for the expense of his education had caught up with him. There were other fresh corpses waiting in the wings. Accidents that had been waiting to happen. The price had gone astronomically up for cadavers without Covid19.
Atropos’ invisible presence in the room was felt by all. Fate had spoken as one body after another was wheeled in for display. “There seems to be a pattern in their demise. I wonder what it could be?”
It was then, Harry Smith grabbed the scalpel, slitting Doctor Heaven Barkley’s throat with a single blood thirsty gash. Atropos had spoken, yet again.