Unfinished Tales
Author: Polaris Zark

Chapter 9
Severed and Bloody


Dorozyr stared at the incoherent manner in which the man had been killed. On the table in front of him lay a mess letting off a very foul stench. Dorozyr didn’t have time to make a fuss over it so he just got on with the unpleasant job.

The mess in front of him was that of a body.

The feet of the body were in a state, which Dorozyr presumed, had been like that before this man’s death. They had mould growing under the balls, and a sort of slime, probably algae growing in between the folds of the rough and jagged skin on the soles of the feet. The top of the feet were quite normal, for a dead person; pale and dark.

The next part of the body was the lower leg. The shin was bruised a bit on the left leg, and skin peeled a little. It was the same on the right, except the shin had been broken where the bruises were, so the lower half of the shin lay at an uncomfortable looking angle.

The knees were knobbly, but otherwise quite normal.

Slits had been made on the fat thighs, probably from a dagger, and blood had drained out of them staining the thighs, abdomen and torso of the man.

The side of the waist had been stabbed too, so blood had made a puddle under him, leaving his backside and back stained.

His chest was open, by that I mean broken ribs were sticking out with bits of flesh stuck to the sides. Dorozyr noticed that the dead man’s heart was impaled on a rib, and various organs were mixed up in the pool of blood and flesh inside the chest. Blood from this had also spurted out and stained the body.

The head was severed, with chunks of flesh missing. Dorozyr could see the stains were the man had vomited blood on to his own chin. The eyes looked like they had been in a state of shock, but it was hard to tell because they had been  ripped out of their sockets and were only attached by arteries and capillaries still stuck to the eye sockets. One of the ears had been ripped off and the nose was at an odd angle. The top of the head had been sawed off, and brains had flooded on to the table beside it.

Dorozyr ceased gazing at the nauseous remains of the poor victim, and looked at Physch, who was juggling the dead bodies tongue, and teasing Daisy with it. Daisy was the cat.

“Physch,” Dorozyr said, trying to sound like he’d been let down, although he was just annoyed. “You know I’m feeling depressed. Why did you do this?” Dorozyr attempted a fake sniff, but it sounded like he was sniggering. “I thought it would cheer you up, mate. Show you I was still up for the fight.” Physch said, feeling sorry for Dorozyr. This is the point when Dorozyr started to get angry. He shouted a jumble of words, barely decipherable. “My job, argh! I hate this! To clear up your victims! Don’t you have a good reason today? So I hate this job! I’m your boss! Yet you treat me like dog crap, and gnarling puppies! Get better! Or Start!...” the rest was cursing.

Tears began to build up in the corner of Physch’s eye! “My effort was all for nothing was it?” said Physch! He grabbed the bit of rib that was sticking out of the dead man’s chest; the one with the heart impaled on it, and stabbed it into the roof of his mouth. He stood there for five seconds, blood spurting out and spraying Dorozyr’s face, and the he fell on to the floor.

Dorozyr wiped his face on his sleeve and opened the door to the outside. He cursed under his breath. When he saw what was outside he cursed out loud; a pile of severed and bloody bodies.


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