The Writings of Mary Lewys

She clicked the link. It was a link you couldn’t find with any search engine. She got it from a writer in the know. The webpage loaded in her browser. She scrolled past the white, unimportant words against the black background to the embedded video. She clicked the play button.

The Congressmen, she didn’t know his name, passed large manila envelopes to his lawyer, wife and assistant. He stood behind the podium for the press. The video file had no sound. From the last manila envelop in his hand, he pulled a large, shiny gun.

He placed the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered on the wood panelling. He dropped like a marionette with its strings cut all at once. Two streams of dark liquid poured out of his nose. His eyes were half closed.

A woman mouthed “No” over and over. The policemen there to arrest him blocked people. The camera rolled a minute longer; a close-up of his face.

The imaged froze and lightened as the video ended. She sighed and smiled. She clicked play again. It never failed to comfort.

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© Mary Lewys, 2008