A Snippet of Prose for Your Enjoyment

"This is the victim?"
The young officer snorted and threw back the black sheet.  "I would hardly call her a victim, sir."
"Now, now, Jeffrey.  We don't have any evidence to the contrary, so for now, she is a victim." The older officer pulled the sheet down further and pointed to the scorch marks on the front of the blue cotton t-shirt. 
"It would appear that she was killed by some version of a fire spell.  Which would mean a Pyro warlock."
"It had to be self defense."
"Of course it was, Jeffrey.  You know the Laws as well as I do.  The penalty for attacking a warlock is death, by any means necessary."
The officer sighed and pulled the black sheet back up over the body.
"I guess you are right, Jeffrey.  Not a victim, then.  When will these witches learn their place in our society?  Life would be so much more pleasant if they accepted and followed the Laws."
Jeffrey threw a disgusted look at the body before scribbling more notes on the final report.
"They aren't smart enough to figure that out, sir.  If they were, we wouldn't have jobs."
Both men chuckled and packed up their supplies.  The reapers would be by in a few minutes to finish up, and no one in their right mind wanted to be around for that event. 
Although it was my pale, unmoving face and seemingly lifeless body that the officers exposed underneath the black sheet, I didn't hear the conversation that passed between the two.  To the world, I was dead.  To a more trained eye, I was in a drug-induced temporary coma.  The coma was only supposed to last long enough to let the officers draw up their report and leave, officially declaring me dead.  Unfortunately, I was blinking my eyes and coming to right as two reapers drew the sheet off of my face.  I had a brief moment to enjoy the startled looks on their painted faces before all hell broke loose.


This is just a short piece I wrote while at work, desperately trying to save my creative self.  I would enjoy any and all feedback!