the wheels of karma

In the mist of the isles, a strange body wriggles. Its curves are slightly and unexaggerated and its movement shallow and undeveloped. Somewhere along the coast, a siren sounds. Tremor by tremor, the earth moves relentlessly. The hinge of its head pushes along the edge, dragging itself along with the single-minded intent to do so.
Astrid seizes the beast by its tail end with a grasp of her manicured hand. Its fight for liberation is a painful, dragged out ordeal that lasts the brutality of an instance before it collapses in her fist.
“Come now ickle fish,” she coos, with a not entirely convincing smile that promises a soft touch.
The fiend makes no response, it having delegated its last breath to pulling out of the jaws of her fingers.
“We could have been lovers, you know,” she says, her feet resting solidly on the sand.
“…had the workings of fate resolved themselves another way,” she continues, letting her eyes slide off the creature with disdain.
She laughs.
“But why speak of impossibilities?”
She tosses her head, so that a lock of hair falls back beside her face. In the same fluid movement, she crushes its skull with a careful flick and drops the corpse forgotten into the sea.
“I never like to dwell on the past.”
The bluish green ripples close in on the picture, blurring it from our sights.


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