What happens when dead bodies crop up where they are not supposed to be? How can this allow us to reflect on how we understand security and insecurity? For example, mass graves can be indicators of crimes against humanity. Recent satellite evidence of mass graves analyzed by Amnesty International outside of Bujumbura has led to a focus on the political violence there, a result of turmoil after Burundian President Pierre Nkurunziza announced his intention to seek a third term.
The post Dead body politics: what counting corpses tells us about security appeared first on OUPblog.
I threw the stick and watched Daisy run after it, her tongue lolling to one side, her stubby little legs pumping unrestrained excitement.
I glanced out over the water and became momentarily mesmerized by the light flirting with the small ripples from fish nibbling algae on the surface of the lake.
And then I saw it – a yellow spot among the tall, green grass gently swaying in the sweet twilight breeze. I narrowed my eyes to try and pick out the object without having to actually move closer to it. My peripheral vision blurred as I concentrated on the object that did not belong in this secluded spot. A slow feeling of dread started in my sternum and gently crept up to give my heart a warning squeeze.
Daisy dropped the stick on my sandal and I jumped – I had momentarily forgotten all about her. I bent to pick up the stick, my eyes never leaving that spot of yellow. From my lowered vantage point, my eyes focused on something new. Was that … an arm?
I quickly stood up, my breath caught behind the sudden fear in my throat.
I gripped the stick tighter in my hand and cautiously moved toward the object in the grass.
Daisy happily skipped alongside me. Her gait faltered as we got closer, her nose lifted and she suddenly growled low in her throat.
“I know, Daisy. Chillax,” I crooned in an attempt to keep her calm and not start a barrage of barking. The less noise we made the better.
I held the stick out in front of me – I guess I thought I could use it as a weapon. Though not long or sharp, it was thick enough that it might do temporary damage to a skull, or two.
My eyes never left the object, but I was keenly aware of where I was stepping. I had enough combat experience to slip back into that persona with very little effort. I had thought I had lost my edge but moving toward the target brought back a barrage of memories and I involuntarily winced as horrific images began to flicker and flit through my consciousness. Memories I had spent countless hours in therapy trying to eradicate.
My eyes narrowed as I got closer. It was definitely a body, a woman, no, a girl. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-years old. I paused to assess my surroundings. I looked out over the lake and studied the parameter. No movement. The birds continued to sing, a raccoon edged toward the far end of the lake and carelessly swiped at the water gently lapping the shore.
A soft breeze swept over the body. I crinkled my nose. Decomp – she had probably been dead for at least 24 hours.
“Damn it.” I sighed and slowly stepped back from the body. I couldn’t afford to leave any trace of myself on the body. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. I pressed 9-1 and then stopped.
Even if I called in anonymously, they would still track my cell phone down. I couldn’t afford to be found. Not yet anyway. Not after I had spent the last three years making sure every trace of my existence had been erased.
I studied the girl’s face and slowly put my phone back into my pocket.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered regretfully. My apology dissipated on the summer breeze.
Filed under:
Fiction Fix,
Writing Stuff 
Happy Halloween from Cloudy Collection! It’s a big week for us: we’ve just launched Hanging with the Dead (a 5”x7” letterpress edition), we put it onto a brand new website, and this Friday, we’re going to look at this new set, plus another new set, and all ten of the earlier editions on the walls of Pink Hobo Gallery in Minneapolis. That’s about 100 prints by 80 different artists from around the world!
Thank you all for helping make the project such a huge success! And remember: wash the zombie guts off your hands before handling your new print set.
P.S. Look at those “Dead” artists: Sam Bosma, Emily Carroll, Michael DeForge, Michael Slack, Natasha Allegri, Steve Wolfhard - are you kidding me? So good!
(via Cloudy Collection / Print Editions)
By John Tirman
As the U.S. war in Iraq winds down, we are entering a familiar phase, the season of forgetting—forgetting the harsh realities of the war. Mostly we forget the victims of the war, the Iraqi civilians whose lives and society have been devastated by eight years of armed conflict. The act of forgetting is a social and political act, abetted by the American news media. Throughout the war, but especially now, the minimal news we get from Iraq consistently devalues the death toll of Iraqi civilians.
By Nigel Young
Following the funeral, the British radio waves are full of Amy Winehouse music. Those of us who learned as teenagers about great women blues and soul singers from listening to the voices of Billie Holliday and Bessie Smith, had no such contemporary singers of our own “Beatles” generation, white or black. The emergence of great new talents in this genre was something remarkable.
By Jeffrey Wasserstrom
As my friends know, it doesn’t take much to make me think of Mark Twain. And even people I’ve never met who have followed my writings on China know about my obsession with Twain, since I’ve managed to bring him into discussions of a wide range of China-related topics, from Shanghai history (he never went
Over at The Book Scoop, Rowena talked about our friend Jandy Nelson’s book The Sky is Everywhere when she asked, “What’s Up with all the Dead People?” She wondered why so much death is popular in YA books these days. But really, fascination with death is nothing new. Mexicans built a holiday around celebrating the dead--Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead), November 2nd. 
And while the Mexicans have the artwork of Jose Guadelupe Posada to capture the spirit of the holiday, Americans prefer death to be a little less... skeletal.
(Hyperion Book CH, 2010) (Sourcebooks Fire, 2010)
Here in America, our “dead” is chic, trendy. We make death look good.
(Penguin Group, 2009) (Hyperion Books for Children, 2010)
And truthfully, we’re more obsessed over the un-dead.
![]()
1 Comments on The Day of the UnDead, last added: 11/1/2010
1 Comments on The Day of the UnDead, last added: 11/1/2010
Death is just a part of life. Creepy post, Patti. Great covers. I wonder what it's like for a designer to have to work with undead images all day.