February 25, 2023
The trail of blood droplets splattered perfectly on the ground like fully bloomed red roses. At first the blood drops were sprinkled here, and there, as the blood trickled out of the wounded human. And then, about halfway down the street, the trickle of splatter began to rain down more, and the blood trail became more prevalent. This wound was serious and this person is in some serious trouble. The blood drops were more cluttered in mass and pooling was occurring. The wounded person couldn’t get out of the bloods way, as their feet began to trample the pooling blood like puddles of rain and the blood trail soon became a foot trail as the bottoms of the shoes were painted red and the their pathway was more defined. Nike, shoe size 10 became more evident.
People in the neighborhood heard cries for help but not a peep was made from the silent audience who was in the safety of their home. Neither a light turned on, nor a soul was seen rushing to this person to give them life saving aid. Like a wounded animal in the woods, the victim was on their own to fend for themself. Death waited in the shadows. Black death began to grow thirsty for the blood as it drained from the open wounds of the once healthy person. The veil of death could no longer hide itself so it began brute its way through their soul eager to take the life of another human being. Brutality in some cases of death can only be remedied peacefully when the dying breathe their last breath. It is so unfair that peace can only be achieved once the dying completes their gauntlet of death.
In the distance there is a sound of salvation. The sound of police sirens can be heard over the heavy breathing and screams of bloody murder. The dying’s only guaranteed cavalry ready to respond to their cries of help. Society has turned its back on their plight and there is only one brave force willing to enter the killing zone and do God's work.
The police officers driving in the police car can only go so fast to get there. The vessel of salvation is being held up due to traffic and red traffic lights that impede their path, as they make their way into the arena and insert themselves into a battlefield that they didn’t know existed until dispatch relayed them the information they received from the phone calls on the 9-1-1 line. There is no plan on how to enter. Just table topped ideas of future events that are beginning to play out in real time. Police officer’s relying on their instincts, experience, and training to guide them into the area where no one else was brave enough to enter. They are gladiators willing to act as protectors, apply first aid, make the scene safe, get emergency medical personnel in, because fire rescue will only stage a mile down the road until the police on scene give the okay to enter. Once the dust settles the police can begin to investigate the crime. But none of that can happen unless they get there. If the police don’t act, then their just protecting the crime scene until the medical examiner arrives.
The blood stream is slowing. Is it coagulating? Is the body almost out of its required 10 pints of blood and now shock is setting in? Who knew that at the start of all this bleeding the wounds were deep enough to end a life? The police are on scene and peace has returned to the area but a tragedy has befallen on this street. Now, it’s time for the neighborhood to recover and assess how something so senseless could have happen in their family neighborhood, which has since turned violent during the night. The sporadic blood drops cascading into a flow of red death and now has dried up. May God have mercy on their souls.
Blake and Max on a stroll. February 1, 2023.
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