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Broken: The Tale of Mary
Broken: The Tale of Mary
Broken: The Tale of Mary
Ebook49 pages51 minutes

Broken: The Tale of Mary

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Broken - The Tale of Mary follows a young man as he discovers the fairer sex, and chronicles his inability to escape the intense gaze and violent hand of his caretaker. A brutal, and graphic story filled with horrific scenes.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 19, 2012
ISBN9781476285405
Broken: The Tale of Mary

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    Book preview

    Broken - Exquisite Writerman

    Broken – The Tale of Mary

    By: Exquisite Writerman

    Copyright 2012 by Exquisite Writerman

    All Rights Reserved

    Cover Art by E.W.

    exquisitewriterman@gmail.com

    Smashwords Edition

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    I can’t remember a single sound from the crash but it was truly awe-inspiring. Someone must have been dead. The white mustang was parked on the side of the road. They had a flat. She looked gorgeous standing there, the sun in her hair and the disappointment and worry on her face. She looked completely irritated and ungrateful. Her boyfriend was changing the flat. She must have thought she was in a hurry. I can never imagine someone would willingly spend their final moments making a face that pathetic. In her defense she couldn’t have known that just down the street another driver was on her way. I never learned if they knew each other or not, but they certainly would never forget each other.

    The tire was off of her car and the tiny flat was being wheeled around to the front. Without screeching, stopping, yelling, horns or music, the second car - fantastically red - drove directly into the occupied man. There could not have been much left of him I thought as the red car continued to drive through the white car. Spinning, the white car plowed into the irritated girl. I wondered if she was happy not to be irritated any longer, or if she was happy to be dead or maybe just happy there is no need to be anxious anymore.

    That’s not true. Mary countered as she stood next to me. There is plenty of time to be anxious. She paused, and inhaled, holding her breath for a moment and then another. There isn’t much time left. If you look closely you can see it.

    See what? I asked.

    The moment when a soul leaves the body or realizes it will be trapped inside, violently, and forever. This is Mary. She is my guardian. The siren announced the coming of the paramedics. My hearing must have returned.

    The soul doesn’t feel any pain while the body is alive. The shock of dying is felt by the body alone.

    That’s awful. I replied sheepishly.

    The soul doesn’t know the body is dead, but if it doesn’t move quickly and exit, it is subject to whatever funeral rites are administered to the body. Burial, cremation, should only affect the body. But every now and then, a soul stays behind…. Look at the boyfriend. See the listlessness in the eyes dissipate? He is ok.

    The irritated girl was hit second, and died second. She is almost out of time. They’re offered about 15 seconds. Mary was nervous and concerned. This made me nervous and concerned. The irritated, formerly pretty girl’s eyes went dull - the soul had escaped. You’ll never hear from her again.

    The driver of the red car was bleeding from her head. She was breathing. She was alive. The paramedics arrived, quickly assessed the bodies and began treating the bleeding girl.

    That could have been so much worse.

    Two people died Mary. It was pretty bad already.

    Mary looked at her feet. That could have been so much… she trailed off.

    Mary was full of useful, insightful, and odd information. Her constant contact with me, and sharing all those details in life most aren’t familiar with, certainly gave me a unique point of view growing up. I never forgot that first car crash, and the proximity of death. Most of all, I never forgot how quiet it was. I got on my bike, and road home.

    For years I would search of a moment as quiet. A moment that would transfix me again, that would take all my concentration and that didn’t allow for distractions. They didn’t come. Mary

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