Something Rotten, Yet Divine.

@judas-redeemed / Wilhelm Schulz, “All Soul’s Day” / Neil Hilborn, “Our Numbered Days” /@petfurniture / Hugo Simberg , “The Garden of Death” / Ramona Ausubel

@ beetlemoses on ig

Vintage wlw will forever own my heart. We have been here for ages, and we won’t leave.

"One might take the tip of the pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil tip is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Viewed at their actual size, the distances between these atoms might become league, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity."

- Stephen King, The Gunslinger

A man in the hospital died today

I'm in the room next door when it happens. No alarms sound his death. No one is there to scream or cry.

Just two nurses, gathered round his bed like doves in blue scrubs. I hope they thought to hold his hand.

His mottled arms are folded neatly across his chest when I arrive. I study his body, instinctively looking for the rise and fall of breath. He is, of course, perfectly still. The sensors have all been removed, he is covered in a feather-light sheet. His skin, nearly translucent, glows in the sunlight.

The older of the two nurses must see my wide eyes; she beckons me and shows me what to do.

This was a good death, she tells me.

I am not convinced. She continues as she hands me a roll of gauze.

He was comfortable.

She shows me how to moisten his eyes to protect them for donation. I touch his eyelid gingerly. The cold makes me flinch. I remind myself that bodies do that when they die.

He was clean.

I place the gauze on his lids, covering his priceless eyes. I remind myself that I cannot hurt him. I still handle him as if his skin were eggshell.

The sterile water runs out from the gauze and streams down his cheek.

He wasn't alone.

By Laura Gilpin

Who's your top comfort character right now?

I've been rewatching the original star wars trilogy, so right now, Luke Skywalker ❤️😍🥰

a writing prompt in the form of a haiku

“I’m not a villain!” 

Spat darkly through gritted teeth;

Tears salting their cheek.

Santa Muerte, Our Lady of Holy Death