Descending Road - IT STOOPED PAINFULLY by Dana W. Paxson

IT STOOPED PAINFULLY

1544 4D

A large corpse in a Novander Wye bodysuit lay face-down in a path in the deep grass, in a broad, dry patch of brown and black muddy earth. The sun had set. A brace of fehey came snuffling out of the root-mazes, in search of beetles or turkili for their young. They approached the face of the huge man, sniffed and nosed at the blood that had trickled from his mouth and dried. A long dried flow of brown led from an exit hole in the man’s back down to the ground. Scissorflies, rasping their sixwings, scratched and pared at the brown stain.

When the face raised itself and the eyes opened, the fehey scuttled away. A hoarse, deep voice said, “I’m alive?” Then it said, “Who are you?” No one else was present.

Slowly the body clambered up to hands and knees, then stood, wobbling, in the gathering night. It stood still for a long time; the lips moved, but it made no sound. One arm moved up to finger a now-closed hole over the heart. It stooped painfully to the roots where the datasheet and gun had been hidden, retrieved them, straightened up, turned, and began to walk north.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	IT STOOPED PAINFULLY 1544 4D A large corpse in a Novander Wye bodysuit lay face-down in a path in the deep grass, in a broad, dry patch of brown and black muddy earth. The sun had set. A brace of fehey came snuffling out of the root-mazes, in search of beetles or turkili for their young. They approached the face of the huge man, sniffed and nosed at the blood that had trickled from his mouth and dried. A long dried flow of brown led from an exit hole in the man’s back down to the ground. Scissorflies, rasping their sixwings, scratched and pared at the brown stain. When the face raised itself and the eyes opened, the fehey scuttled away. A hoarse, deep voice said, “I’m alive?” Then it said, “Who are you?” No one else was present. Slowly the body clambered up to hands and knees, then stood, wobbling, in the gathering night. It stood still for a long time; the lips moved, but it made no sound. One arm moved up to finger a now-closed hole over the heart. It stooped painfully to the roots where the datasheet and gun had been hidden, retrieved them, straightened up, turned, and began to walk north.