Canvas of a Short Life
Once Mom and Dorothy clearly saw the object on the ground, their screams erupted one after another. Both of them were nearly scared out of their minds, yet their eyes were locked on the object, unable to look away until it rolled to a stop in front of the trash bin.
A severed head rested silently against the green trash bin. The face was covered in blood and grime, eyes wide, frozen in the terror of its final moments. The features had long been beaten beyond recognition.
Mom trembled as she walked toward me and, in disbelief, reached out to remove the pearl earring. After she recognized it, she let out a gut-wrenching wail. Her vision went black, and she collapsed.
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