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Weekly Contest #24
Amelia felt equal parts repelled and entranced by the sight of her first dead body. Even in the dim wooded light of dawn, the purple bruises bloomed on the dead man’s pale skin like crimson roses climbing a white-washed wall. The limbs of the corpse were bent to awkward angles, the skin torn and taut over broken bones. Amelia winced, but stepped forward an inch, dry twigs cracking underfoot, and crouched. She raised her lamplight and looked through the lens, as she’d been recently taught, and pointed her camera at the deceased’s ...
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