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The body had started to decompose, but there was no way to dispose of it. Sally started to cry as she sat in the corner watching what was left of her brother. What would she tell her father when the ship made planetfall, she had no idea.
By MauriceWilliams URL on 06.11.2013
The bodies lay on the floor of the cabin, the stench filling all the rooms. They lay rotting, a pool of dried blood forming halos around their skulls.
By Brook H on 06.11.2013
The smell of leaves composting, damp and warm in the shade under the oaks in the yard. That smell reminds me of growth, of hope, of home, of soil, and fertility. It is a smell that completes my soul.
By saralyric on 06.11.2013
The body had been exhumed. The rotting flesh and maggots had made her want to vomit, but she did not want to look weak in front of her make peers.
By Sean URL on 06.11.2013
the stink – that’s what hit me first and foremost.
Rotten, sweet, a smell to make you retch and thank your maker for the fact you were still breathing in and out and able to recognise something dead was nearby.
By Stevie on 06.11.2013
She liked to make her eyes cross so she could watch as the tiny brown specks and the white paper would shrivel under the ring of fire and decompose as she inhaled the sweet vapor they created.
By Dawn on 06.11.2013
Just under the surface, and just below the leaf litter all damp from the morning’s dew, the body was located. It was left to decompose and be one with the earth again, just as the last wishes had requested. A macabre final request.
By Amimee URL on 06.11.2013
The smell was rancid as it hit her nose. Throat convulsing, the muscles contracting up into a dry heave as she turned away from the cellar doorway. Once she could control her breathing, wiping the tears away with her dirty sleeve. She turned once again to the smell of death, looking down into the darkness. Her foot floating above the first step, before she hesitantly made her way down to the cellar.
By mysqlgrl URL on 06.11.2013
I can think of many apples and oranges that decompose at the fruit stand.
By T1DSurfDad URL on 06.11.2013
The crumbling buildings and the reminants of society left haunting images in the survivors psyche. They knew what it once was and now they were being forced to accept the new world, a new hell.
By Laurel on 06.11.2013
Here darkness is absolute. I can no longer feel fingers or the tip of my nose. I think my feet have turned to dirt. Under my headstone, beneath the ground and inside a long wooden box is where I will spend eternity. Yet then, when I have given up any hope, a bright white light appers to me, awaits me in the distance.
By aria1 on 06.11.2013
It is said that when we die, we get buried into the ground, never to be physically seen again. We rot in the ground, but is it really rotting? No. We are adding to what is living, living among the living as the dead.
By Nora on 06.11.2013
it was decomposing in front of her, silently leaking through the plastic bag. stifling a scream, she turned to face the killer.
By Trish on 06.11.2013
Decompose is sometimes good, but it depends on the circunstances.
By gydgygst on 06.11.2013
The decomposition of society lies not in the dead bodies in the earth, but in the decomposition of the human dignity, both inflicted by others on others and self-inflicted.
By Sally J. on 06.11.2013
Is what garbage does. Bodies also decompose once dead. The smell is atrocious! Sometimes relationships decompose before your very eyes. Life is one big circle of decomp.
By Tracy on 06.11.2013
I had a dream last night, and I gave you a third chance. People have heard of second chances, and that’s why I gave you one in the first place. You were the only one who got a second chance out of my stubborn hands. But a third, no.That would only come in places after my eyelids had shut and my mind had failed to make any sense. And when the sun rose, the third chance decomposed with the rest of the cobwebs in my brain, and I hit the alarm clock–a check-in to reality.
By Marissa URL on 06.11.2013
The protest had been swept aside. Blood scabbed over in the gutters, and the air was thick with smell of chaos, the metallic tinge of cordite, the burning scent of tear gas, and the omnipresent rank of fear.
By Chris Clow URL on 06.11.2013
He lay there in the dirt, watching the small body of the thing that was becoming dirt itself. Rodent? Bird? He had no idea, but knew at that moment that someday he too would be jus t like that thing, returning to the earth, unrecognisable, unfamiliar, unloved.
By SaxinSon on 06.11.2013
I pushed slowly against the closet door. It pushed back, slowly. I kicked it hard and fast but someone on the other side kicked back equally hard. I decided on a gentler approach. On hands and knees I eased the door open and reached inside with my pocket flashlight. Leaning against the door I was able to open it up enough to fit my head inside. Something hit me hard, square in the face and my head snapped back and hit the doorframe. It wasn’t a fist. It was a smell. A smell like no other, like corruption itself had begun to decompose. I had found who I was looking for, slumped in the corner, his legs jammed against the door, like a song and dance man about to run up the wall and flip backwards, like they do in the movies.
I was three months late.
By catbeazle URL on 06.11.2013
He hasn’t been home for weeks. Every time I look across the street, I see dirty, darkened windows and a pile of newspapers waiting to decompose on his front stoop.
By WearyWater URL on 06.11.2013
There it is. Lifeless. The skin disappears first, then the muscles, then the bones. Who knows? What else can I tell you? This is my first break down. Breaking down. The old me slouhging off, old skin falls around my ankles like a prom dress. I’m done.
By Anne Follows on 06.11.2013
My task was to decompose this piece. To strip out the extraneous elements and bare the soul of the composition. Against my better judgement, and at the risk of destroying my relationship with the artist, I began my work.
By Wilder Ocean URL on 06.11.2013
Well I think it is kinda weird how things just decompose and become soil. Like magic. My science teacher talks about stuff like that a lot. He’s really crazy and into the earth and all that stuff.
By Julie URL on 06.11.2013
As we go on in life or bodies will soon decompose as petty ashes. Will we ever be remembered, or our memories with others cherished? As our ashes fly in the junk-filled air, was our existence ever meaningful?
By Eimy on 06.11.2013
her body lay there. she couldn’t move off the couch. she felt as though her entire body was decomposing slowly into the cushion. She couldn’t lift up to get the glass of water. She couldn’t even reach her ringing phone. It was a wasted effort.
By Fouad Hammoud on 06.11.2013
All bodies and living things decompose when their life span is ended, thereby returning the constituent parts into the world
By Bob on 06.11.2013
Every breathe, every inch
brings us closer to uncertainty.
Time on a string,
nothing left to sing…
A whisper is all that is left.
By Jason Ohono on 06.11.2013
Decomposing of a body. Again.
Well because that’s what I do. I go and kill people.
NONONO, I’m not a murderer. I get paid. By them. They suffer. And they want to die, yet they do not want proof that they did a suicide.
Who would want that?
So, I do that.
Decompose a body. And get the blame. Wonderful, right?
By Jinny Kim on 06.11.2013
Roderich tore up the paper and groaned in frustration.
“I just don’t understand it! Who does that idiot think he is, forcing me to write an entire musical score in just five days?! Any half witted simpleton you encounter walking down the street knows you can’t force art!”
Walking into the room and yet another of the overworked Austrian’s outbursts, Elizaveta sighed and approached the sacred piano bench.
“Oh, Roderich, darling, don’t fret so much about it. If there’s one thing you are, it’s a brilliant composer. You’ll manage this somehow, no matter how overwhelming it seems now.”
He scoffed, glancing at the rather large and ever-growing pile of torn paper scatter on the floor. “More like decomposer, if you ask me,” he said, running a hand through his thick, black hair.
By Katelyn on 06.11.2013
it all comes down
after your song and dance
tune never heard again
By Aley URL on 06.11.2013
I sat there and I watched her decompose. Her life was literary a corpse and she had died long ago. I tried to snap out of the abyss of my mirror. But I couldn’t, I’m dead. “I’m dead!” I tried to scream with what was left of me. There was no life in my eyes, it had been drained long ago.
By natalie URL on 06.11.2013
The body had decomposed enough to make the bones stand out on its face… the skull peered at her, grinning eerily.
But it had not decomposed enough to take away the gut-wrenching smell of decaying flesh.
Ægata looked at it, a long moment, then passed on, head held high, as she walked, becaus ethere was nothing she could do about the tattered clothing hanging from the child’s frame, because there was nothing she could say to its mother, because there was nothing she could tell the father to do, nothing she could do except walk on.
By Maria URL on 06.11.2013
I was only sitting down for what couldn’t have been two minutes. But already the bench brought about a shock. Right before me, a small bird fell from the sky. The strangest thing wasn’t even that it was dead. No, not that it was already rotting and wreaked of dead flesh, but rather, that it was still alive.
By Kevin URL on 06.11.2013
Why have some of Beethoven’s greatest works disappeared in recent years? Because he’s been decomposing for almost 200 years.
Worms in the ground. Silt sand dirt
By Sam on 06.11.2013
have you ever watched a body decompose?
she wasn’t dead, not even sleeping.
a coma of sorts, she sat there, at her desk for what seemed like centuries before anyone but i noticed.
my dear friend
By rosybum URL on 06.11.2013
My brain feels like it’s decomposing every time it has to memorize. I force it to memorise. I slam in as much as i can. It defies me by decomposing much of it . It decomposes to dust. What was i on about? I’m not sure
By abdi on 06.11.2013
Bodies rot. It’s what they do, what they’re meant for. They don’t stick around, taking up space. They rot, bacteria gets into them and starts eating them away. Animals pick at bits and pieces, chewing flesh and crunching bone. They inflate, they deflate, they go back into the ground. It really isn’t that big a deal.
By Basheer Imaduddin Ghouse on 06.11.2013
The body lay there, rotting like mulch. The insides of the body were spilling out, half decomposed, looking like mouldy porridge.
He would never be able to eat porridge again.
By EJ on 06.11.2013
The room had the smell of dead lingering in it, it was faint but there. the bodies weren’t anywhere in sight though.
By Anna on 06.11.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.