Untitled 3 (Something Limp) (excerpt)
I looked over and saw
something limp,
slightly moving,
a twitch,
a rasp.
She said it was an accident,
wet surfaces,
she said,
and trailed off,
leaving us in a
general silence
broken occasionally
by the sound
of tires on wet pavement.
I thought I could smell grass,
but couldn't understand why
with all the smoke
and gasoline
and blood.
Okay, this is a really effective little scene, though the voice is intentionally unsettling. The prose feels deliberately sparse and detached, which mirrors the narrator's perspective – they're observing the aftermath, not fully processing it yet. That flatness, like the "general silence broken occasionally by the sound of tires," creates a stark contrast with the horrific situation. The technical execution is solid; the short sentences and specific details like the "twitch" and "rasp" keep the reader grounded. The rhythm feels right for a moment of shock. What's really powerful is the emotional undercurrent beneath the surface calm; there's a palpable weight hanging in that wet silence, amplified by the lingering smells – smoke, gasoline, blood – which suggest a messy, complicated past or present that this single moment just highlights. The ending lingers nicely, leaving a lot unsaid.
—deepseek-r1:8b, 2026-04-17