I have come to the conclusion that God hates us.
Last week I was on my way to a crime scene and I saw something I didn’t plan on seeing. Or rather I saw someone.
We were in such a remote part of Johannesburg that I am pretty sure if you had to scream for help then the vastness would swallow the sound.
I was playing a game about what I’m going to see in this scene and I found myself looking out the window.
The long green grass was flawless as it was swaying in the wind. It was as if there was a ritualistic dance being done in the vastness of the plains. The wind being the song of the dance.
As I got lost in the movements of the grass I saw her.
Last year, on the same date and in the same area, a family of four were massacred on their property. It was the massacre that made me believe that God isn’t on our side.
The scene was one out of a horror movie. The one bedroom little box they were staying in was covered in blood, it looked like Jackson Pollock was using this room as a canvas. The old man was killed there. He was hacked to death by a crowbar.
The dried blood would probably never come off those walls.
The image of the two cups of coffee, still full with slices of buttered bread next to it was probably the saddest part of that whole scene. It was as if death came swiftly and just took those people, while they were busy with their day-to-day activities.
I remember how the flies were stuck in the dried blood. As if they flew into death and never escaped. Quite ironic if you think about it.
The husband and his wife were killed on another part of the property. They were killed with a shovel. The woman’s jet black hair could still be seen on the ground, her hair was in dried blood.
There was a pungent smell which filled my nostrils and cemented itself. It didn’t smell of death but rather of despair and pain. I remember closing my eyes and it was as if I could hear the screams of the woman in this little room. I imagined that it was ear-piercing. I wonder what was her last thought before the life was beaten out of her.
As I was staring out of the window, I saw the little girl who was killed. If I can remember correctly she was 9 years old.
She hid in the garage behind a wall of cement bags. She tried to run away but she was suffocated. The wire used was still there when I arrived and there were tiny pieces of her flesh on it.
This little girl was standing between the light green shades, her white little dress and her sandy brown hair swaying the same way as the grass around her. What felt like hours was actually just a few seconds.
She was waving at me.
She was looking straight at me as if she can see right through me. I could feel the hairs on my neck and arms stand up. When I checked again she vanished.
There was no trace of her.
Do I believe in the supernatural? No. Is there an explanation for this? No. Am I going crazy? Most probably.
For the duration of the trip I was pretty confused. I felt like I was just functioning on autopilot.
I never imagined that a previous story would come back to haunt me in such a way.
I still can’t believe it.