Three Murdered Bodies-Gothic Piece

The stench of blood stung his nostrils as he came down the darkened staircase. He didn’t know it was blood when he was fumbling along the moist stone walls, he didn’t know what he was about to discover. He was expecting wine-a case he had stored in the cellar years earlier, the bottles gleaming in the dusk like jewels. He remembered pulling the cork from one and watching it trickle into a glass; a rich purple. His throat was dry, his desire for the warmth of the wine strong.
But what he found instead was three dark prone lumps. Three murdered bodies, still quite fresh. From split skin flesh glistened wetly, throats torn open, eyes glassy and wide. Their skin was bone white except for the bruises mottling their limbs. Three women recognisable only by their long thin strands of blood soaked hair and their curved purple hips. Terror gripped him, nausea rolling across his skin, a cold sweat sticking his shirt to his back. He grasped at the wall, his fingers slipping uselessly from the stone.
He slumped down, feeling his spine scrape off the rock and he curled himself up, folding his limbs around his body. His vision shook as he retched, the smell of soured flesh rolling over him. He watched as strings of vomit fell from his slack mouth. He looked up through quivering tears and met the unseeing gaze of the third dead woman.

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