2 views
theatrics
CW: medical trauma, gore, blood
-----
The medical theatre is a crude and putrid venue. Tiers of splintering and scuffed seating funnel down to a detestable stage.
The body rests atop a surgical bed, sitting at the dead center. A lone island amongst a sea of blood and viscera. Performers wade through the humors to reach their subject.
Three practitioners, knee deep in the dead, moan and bicker to one another. Each more certain than the other that their individual method is the clear and objective truth.
The Butcher examines the cadaver. “The heart has stopped, yes, but the soul is still in there. She is in pain. This calls for a surgeon. Step aside, I will make the excision.”
With shock, The Cleric responds, “Surely we must diagnose the malady first. Find out where the sickness lays. The blood? The bones? The nerves? Perhaps deeper than any of these.”
“You are both so silly.” chimed The Cultist. “No knife is as sharp as the will of God, my will. You are so eager to begin poking and prodding, that must explain the stains on your hands. Give me some room! I will simply ask her what is wrong.” The others ignored her.
“My plan is to vivisect with an acute vertical incision. If my experience is to be trusted, then the Shame is to be found in the torso and the Perversion in the pelvis.”
“And what of the Neglect? The Abuse? I’ve studied enough to know it’s in there somewhere.”
“Ugh, I can’t stand it! You are both heathens; your ignorance will be her death! From what institution were you taught to ignore her humanity? We are all the same, don’t you know? For this we have no need of scalpels and textbooks, we simply need a miracle. If you would just let me —“
“Enough! Words without action are just that. I must prepare the body for extraction.”
“The solution is not to take away, but to add! A serum of some kind.”
“There is no solution.” The Cultist sang. “All is takes is a simple change of mind. It’s so easy, simply picture to idea in your head and ask it ‘Why?’. Even you two could do this.”
© All Rights Reserved
-----
The medical theatre is a crude and putrid venue. Tiers of splintering and scuffed seating funnel down to a detestable stage.
The body rests atop a surgical bed, sitting at the dead center. A lone island amongst a sea of blood and viscera. Performers wade through the humors to reach their subject.
Three practitioners, knee deep in the dead, moan and bicker to one another. Each more certain than the other that their individual method is the clear and objective truth.
The Butcher examines the cadaver. “The heart has stopped, yes, but the soul is still in there. She is in pain. This calls for a surgeon. Step aside, I will make the excision.”
With shock, The Cleric responds, “Surely we must diagnose the malady first. Find out where the sickness lays. The blood? The bones? The nerves? Perhaps deeper than any of these.”
“You are both so silly.” chimed The Cultist. “No knife is as sharp as the will of God, my will. You are so eager to begin poking and prodding, that must explain the stains on your hands. Give me some room! I will simply ask her what is wrong.” The others ignored her.
“My plan is to vivisect with an acute vertical incision. If my experience is to be trusted, then the Shame is to be found in the torso and the Perversion in the pelvis.”
“And what of the Neglect? The Abuse? I’ve studied enough to know it’s in there somewhere.”
“Ugh, I can’t stand it! You are both heathens; your ignorance will be her death! From what institution were you taught to ignore her humanity? We are all the same, don’t you know? For this we have no need of scalpels and textbooks, we simply need a miracle. If you would just let me —“
“Enough! Words without action are just that. I must prepare the body for extraction.”
“The solution is not to take away, but to add! A serum of some kind.”
“There is no solution.” The Cultist sang. “All is takes is a simple change of mind. It’s so easy, simply picture to idea in your head and ask it ‘Why?’. Even you two could do this.”
© All Rights Reserved
