Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Dead I: Carrion

Warm Nights and Cold Fires

The fact that I was dead was indubitable. I was stuck in a motionless body, the smell had surpassed unbearable some time ago and I had absolutely no sight; my eyes were far too gone for that luxury, I think. Or it could’ve been the dark. I try to shift myself to a more comfortable (albeit just as dead) position before I remembered I was, well, dead, and stuck in a motionless body.

I know that the beetles were at me now. The maggots had come and gone, and the worms and flies had had their turn too. It was time for the beetles to rip out little bits of damp, cold deadness and scrounge up what little was left of my flesh. I settled into nonchalant disregard as the insects did their work, tickling the remaining few threads of my consciousness that had managed to somehow still stay attached…

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