The snow follows her in the murderous morning.
The girl rushing past the other passengers, past the story of their faces and their bulky shoulders. The grey of the train station interrupted by squares of light. They glide across the shadows until, in a roar of vibrations, the train leaves the station and reveals her to him.
On the way to the train station, the young man Young Jin lost himself in the mornings of others. He puts together their lives from the evidence they bring with them on the train. The boy's imagination examining things they have forgotten about themselves with loving attention to detail. Each time the train stopped was an event to him. He watched them take their stories home with them. The new arrivals seldom as interesting as their predecessors. Their stories come together in his mind like chromosomes before the old ones are forgotten.
When he saw her it was a story he already knew. Her red skirt underneath the gray winter coat. It catches his eye as she makes her escape out the exit.
He after all steps out onto the country road.
Out there her figure walking beside others like ants it must be to the snow above. The snowflakes settle to the ground unhurried by any wind as if under their own will. Like fireflies, like faeries playing among the darkened wood low to the ground. One remains unmelted on the lens of his glasses and looks him in the eye. It finds the boy to be far away from the family that regards him as a scholar. It finds him to be underdressed and cold. It finds him to be small.
A complex of four apartment buildings stands titanic and aloof in the fog of snow. The whole ant line of people ends there.
An eyelash on the boy's finger tip. He squints at it until it turns translucent and mixes with his own eyelashes. Could be anybody's. She tried to kill him two days ago and now he is obsessed.
Along the road, trees that stand silent and ethereal like the ghosts of soldiers. Beyond the trees a forest of pathways lightly warn. Inroads eroded by mushroom hunters or the adventurous inclinations of a gang of boys. In the heart of the forest a cabin and one well worn path way to the road known to only one family.
Corruption and debauchery in a cabin faintly aglow with yellow candle light in the snow. Intrigue and politics of an animal called human. A family fallen from the grace of society and reduced to base inclinations. Murder as the snow melts. Days of spring spent in uninhibited lust, as much as a body could muster. New generations born, on their way in the ecstasy of youth, and dead again under the eye of the sun rising and falling. An elder who wields power over others watching the road in the red sunset. Watching the road and watching the people and waiting until the road was deserted to venture out and lay his hands on something. In his eye the animalistic seeing and plotting, seeing and plotting of a cat. He is the god of all that surrounds him and he doesn't speak your language.
A family fallen from the grace of the village. Forced out into the woods and
who met some misfortune or pathways warn by loggers a century ago and now overtaken by the forest's minions. In the ductile wood of the forest etched the evidence of human stories, of a variety and number that only a vast and porous wilderness can accommodate. Indeed over the centuries man has left his stench in the woods.
A legend of the forest so old it is concealed from the consciousness of the townsfolk by time: they say that in the heart of the forest lives a family fallen to corruption. Descendants of an old clan pushed out of town by rumors of incest and cannibalism. The patriarch of which was a prominent business man until gambling and drink overtook him. Stories of his daughter, molested and corrupted from a young age, murdering a young boy in a ritual. Stories of the man leading a would be foreign business partner into the woods and killing him. His brother confessed to eating the man's flesh before his suicide in the same forest. The story forgotten until a mushroom picker stumbled upon a cabin. On encroachment he came upon a figure holding a long stick. When he came near enough to engage the man, he was frightened away by his appearance. He said the man wore homemade clothes and did not speak. He said there was something frightening in the man's gaze that he could not explain. He said he understood that he must leave or else face his undoing.
The snowflakes settle to the ground unhurried by any wind as if under their own will. Like faeries playing among the darkened wood low to the ground. One remains unmelted on the lens of his glasses and looks him in the eye. It finds the boy to be far away from the family that regards him as a scholar. It finds him to be distracted from his studies. It finds him to be small.
the forest of trees that stand like ghosts of soldiers stinks of human flesh.
the boy waits for the girl in the forest after leaving drunk from the bar. she never walks by. he gets lost in the woods
[pathologists examining the boy's body. frank talk of food. what is best way to cook human meat. sear the tender loin. brais the thigh. they say that sharks dont eat human flesh because it has too much sodium. that sounds delicious. yes it does. tender loin missing. one part of the leg missing. they found the body, didnt kill him. death by exposure.
look at the skin. were does is it best preserved.
on it's right side.
so what side was he laying on?
right. the side exposed to cold temperatures froze first. how else can i tell it was on its left side.
the right thigh was cut off?
correct. the cannibals do not like spoiled meat. therefore how did he die?
correct. they brought in a murder and leave with an accident.
tell me the story of how he died.
he walked home drunk from the bar. passed out on the road. was dragged into the forrest by an animal. when the temeratures froze the meat the animals left it alone. when the temperatures came back, the animal came back and ate what wasn't rotten. the thigh was eaten because, since its mass is significant it took a long time to defraust and was saved thusly from insects. but why was the tenderloin missing?
what does the lack of a tenderlioin emply?
I dont know.
A dog with good taste.
but what should I write.
write what you want but bring it to me to sign tomorrow noone. bring good beer saturday evening. i love good beer.
does mrs. like beer too?
she drinks it.
tenderloin recipe. are you ready? soy sauce brine, 30 minutes. like salmon. tuna is brined less because it is lean. star anis, black pepper. sear five minutes on each side.
the boy and girl in train station
by follows her to her building, sits in bar
something goes wrong in the bar
his inner mind, the atmosphere of the bar
doctors examining the bodies of him and a homeless guy
bodies are frozen. frank conversation..