Cause of Death
Lifeless and cold, yet a mystery to solve
The three bodies we separated by only a few centimeters but placed so beautifully aligned with each other in a straight line. Before they were sent to the M.E, flies swarmed each body almost covering them whole. Luckily they laid no eggs in the skin, mouth, nose, or ears. Blood drained from each body and covered the ground they lay on. “How did they die?” Detective Williams asked. “It's strange” the M.E siad. “The first victim I thought died of lacerations to the neck and choked to death” the M.E explained in a confused and softened tone. “However that’s not how he died, the lacerations were post mortem or after his death.” “So, how did he die?” The detective asked with concern. “The tox screen came up with a positive of Arsenic poisoning as well as sulfuric acid. This explains why the mouth is scarred.” The M.E reported. They moved onto the second corpse. “She was easier to find the C.O.D” the M.E said. “Five GSWs or Gunshot Wounds to the chest and lower abdomen and one final shot to the head execution style.” The detective was stunned, one body being a chemical mess and another a straight forward death. “What about the Tox screen?” the detective asked with urgency. “Clean as a whistle, no obvious drug use or smoking habits, no history of any diseases. Only thing rotting is the outside body wounds.” The M.E said with little to no concern. “And the third victim?” The detective asked with a tone of urgency and slight anger. “She was the most interesting and grisly one.” The M.E said with a look of terror in his eyes. He pulled the blanket back to reveal her lifeless body. A wind of horror fills the room and the two other bodies tilt their heads to look at the fresh face. The detective barely has the stomach for the third perfect zombie as he grabs the trash bin and throws up two days worth of food. The smell of vomit fills the room and is appalling, the M.E took it to the bathroom and flushed it with great fury. He returned to see the detective looking more dead than the corpse on the table bed. “Are you ok? You’re more dead than the three bodies.” The M.E said with sarcasm in his voice. “Hmm? (chuckles) ya I’m good.” (Clears throat) “How did she die?” He asked with a calm tone. “I had to stitch her together to make a conclusive examination. About forty stab-wounds to the abdomen and lower body, three gunshots down the middle, throat slashed, chest ripped open, and the literal cherry on top, a single gunshot wound to the head point blank, but post mortem.” The M.E explains like the way someone rants about a murder. “Wait… the gunshot was post mortem? What about the stab-wounds and slit throat?” the detective asked with a cold fear in his eyes, sweating blood from his fingertips and nose. “Yes, all of those were post mortem as well. For all I know, whoever did this was either filled with extreme rage or enjoyed it all.” he said with a cold and bone chilling tone. “DUDE, CAN YOU NOT FUCKING SAY THAT?” the detective shouted with fear and anger. “Sorry… just thought that would help your investigation.” The Detective Sighs in frustration. "Unfortunately, it does. Do you know what the real C.O.D was?” he asked. “If you vomited just by seeing the body, you might want to grab a puke bag.” The M.E said with a look of concern for the detective. “The Tox screen came back and well, it’s not pretty.” “What do you mean?” the detective asked. “Her reproductive organs and her liver were in her stomach. With many tracebits of D.N.A as well in her throat.” The detective ran straight to the bathroom, speed that could rival light, and vomited aggressively into the toilet for what seemed like hours were only minutes. “So… (mild gag) you’re saying that he (almost vomits) Fed the victim her own reproductive organs, or fed her to death?” The M.E grabs the garbage bin quickly and the detective nearly pukes his guts out then wipes his mouth and clears his throat. “Thanks for the help Doc, whoever this sick son of a bitch is, I’ll make sure they receive justice for the crimes they committed” the detective says with confidence and disgust. “No problem, now go do your job and catch this guy.” The M.E said as he put the blankets over the bodies and cleaned up the room while the detective left the room.
About the Creator
DevilsRose
Just a young man with a passion for writing short stories and poems.
Keep reading
More stories from DevilsRose and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Fear: the unknown
Natalie was walking home after a long day of work in her sister Jamie's cafe. It was nearly pitch-black as the street lights were her only light source aside from her almost dead phone. Her husband Jake offered her a ride home, however Natalie declined, explaining that she needed the exercise and that the full moon was too beautiful to not witness. She was about to take her usual route through the main roads into downtown where she lived. However due to construction, Natalie had to change routes through more narrow and longer streets into downtown. She Called Jake Explaining that because of construction she would be taking a longer route home and would be there later than expected.
By DevilsRose2 years ago in Fiction
The Path to Salvation
The late autumn evening air filled the monk's lungs, but it wasn't the season that chilled his bones. The heavy-handed presence of evil he had sensed upon entering the woods surrounding this mountain village had not bothered to conceal itself from him.
By Made in DNA4 days ago in Fiction
The Hidden Door: A Family Secret Unveiled
The Hidden Door: A Family Secret Unveiled A forgotten map leads to an ancient mystery hidden beneath the attic. It was a rainy evening when Sarah, curled up in the warmth of her grandmother’s study, found herself once again going through the many boxes of memories her grandmother had left behind. She had never quite known what to do with these things. Every object seemed to hold a piece of the past — an old family photograph, a faded letter, a trinket here and there — and each one stirred up emotions she didn’t know how to process. But on this particular evening, one box in the back corner of the room caught her eye. Unlike the others, it wasn’t full of old pictures or knick-knacks. It was packed with what appeared to be her grandmother’s journals, each worn and yellowed with time. Sarah hadn’t known her grandmother very well before her passing, and now these journals seemed like a window into the woman who had once been the family matriarch, full of stories, wisdom, and memories. As she flipped through the first few pages of one of the journals, something fell out — a small, crumpled piece of paper. She unrolled it carefully, revealing a faded map that seemed to have been drawn by hand. The paper was old, its edges torn, and the ink had blurred in some places, but Sarah could still make out the important details. The map was marked with symbols and what appeared to be a path leading to an “X” in the center of a room she didn’t recognize. It was the attic. Her curiosity piqued, and she immediately began to wonder what her grandmother had hidden all those years ago. Sarah sat back, staring at the map, trying to make sense of it. It had been years since she had explored the attic. As a child, the attic had always seemed like a forbidden place — dark, dusty, and filled with the remnants of a bygone era. Her parents had always warned her not to venture up there, saying it was too dangerous, too cluttered. But now, the map seemed to call her. Her mind raced with thoughts of what could possibly be hidden in that attic. Was it just a memory, or was there something more? Was this map leading her to a treasure, an heirloom, or perhaps an answer to a family mystery that had long been forgotten? Without hesitation, Sarah grabbed the map and hurried to the attic. The wooden steps creaked beneath her weight as she ascended. The musty air hit her the moment she opened the door, and the dim light from a single window barely illuminated the cluttered space. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, and old furniture, boxes, and antique furnishings were piled high, nearly reaching the ceiling. It was the same attic she had visited as a child, but it seemed even more mysterious now. She pulled the rug away from the center of the room, just as the map had indicated. The floorboards creaked as she knelt down, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, she ran her fingers over the worn wood and found a small hatch — it was barely noticeable, but there it was, as though it had been waiting for her all this time. The hatch was old, its wood splintered and faded with age, but it had a rusted latch. Sarah hesitated for a moment, wondering if she was about to uncover something her family had kept hidden for generations. She turned the latch slowly, the sound of metal against wood echoing in the quiet attic. As she lifted the hatch, a wave of cold air rushed up from the darkness below. The space beneath the hatch was small, and Sarah could barely make out the shape of an old, wooden door. It was unlike anything she had ever seen — covered in dust and cobwebs, but solid, like it had been shut for years. The key, it seemed, had always been in her hands — the map, the clue she had uncovered in her grandmother’s journal, had led her here. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, Sarah descended into the hidden space, her flashlight illuminating the way. The room was smaller than the attic, but it was filled with strange artifacts — old trunks, letters, and trinkets from a past era. It was like stepping into a time capsule. And there, in the corner, stood a chest — just as the map had suggested. She felt a rush of adrenaline as she approached the chest and opened it carefully. Inside, she found an old family heirloom, a beautiful silver necklace, its intricate design shining even in the dim light. Along with the necklace was a letter, written in her grandmother’s handwriting, explaining the significance of the necklace — a piece of their family’s history, passed down through generations. Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes as she realized that what she had uncovered wasn’t just a hidden treasure, but a piece of her family’s story. The hidden door had opened, revealing more than just a room filled with relics. It had revealed a legacy she never knew existed.
By ÅBBÅS KHÅÑa day ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Holy smokes. That’s morbid. I love it.