093/100 aka 233/365

HEADS
Word Count: 257

“Every boy should have a collection,” said his mother when asked. Though she never cared what or how many, or how. We all wished that she had, for Herman collected heads.

A search of her cellar revealed an eclectic taste. Plenty of bones, skulls, some almost intact skeletons of mice, squirrels, a cat. A psychiatrist, or perhaps an evolutionist with an interest in transition periods, would notice that Herman began to focus his interest, refine his collection to skulls, probably around his late teens. A goat’s skull, raccoon, a horse–wherever he managed to get that–and a large number of deer and dogs. Big dogs, one looked like a German Shepherd, one a pit bull.

More telling were the attempts at preservation of flesh, hair, eyes. Severed neatly at C-4, flaps of skin sealing the wound with neat stitching. Some mummified but most in large pickle jars in formaldehyde. While some are dated, it is easy to see the progression of learning, the quality of the heads as Herman practiced his craft. From the early cats, hair mostly fallen out, eyes glued shut, shrunken from some process that had failed, the specimens gain in overall quality. The last, or so dated, was quite perfect, eyes open, mouth in a natural and relaxed shape, full head of golden blonde curls complete with a tiny blue ribbon.

The rest, those from the more recent past three or four years, were found in Herman’s own home thirty miles away. Those, we all agreed, were close to fine art.