He backed up, eyes wide, not stopping his gait until he hit the wall of doors behind him. The one he recently opened banged shut from the movement. He paid it no mind, however, as he stared at the freshly peeled open corpse on the gurney before him.
His white-gloved hands were slick with crimson blood, in one he still clutched his scalpel.
The corpse’s chest was filleted open, like flower petals that bloomed in the summer sun. Organs could be seen and dissected at his leisure. It was routine by now: get the corpse, refrigerate them, pull them out once they’re ready -- like a Jell-O mold -- and get to work weighing livers and checking stomach contents.
Same old, same old.
Except none of the corpses the mortician ever received opened their eyes and screamed when he cut into them.
Semi-Sages of the Pages is the creation of four literary ladies seeking to create lifelong friendships that bolster our writing journey.Listen here!