How I Raised the Dead
I was circling because I smelled something fresh-- and then, I saw it lying in the ditch; something had destroyed it, and all that was left were bits of torn carnage, and I picked and pecked and devoured the flesh. Yes, I always swoop in when I smell a death. - Blowflies hummed in the darkness upon my swift descent; pungent were the frenzied maggots, sweet the ripened season's zest. Glimmers from the gloomy crescent glittered silver still duress; bones laid bare in the garden, red the flowers painted carcass. - Harken, hell-bent brethren to how I raised the dead-- having trailed exsanguinated innards o'er vacant heads!
