The Dead’s Unspoken Cry For Help

Amber Brevig

Sunlight filters through the shades,

casting dusty shadows in the empty house

where the unknown woman died,

the windows of which have finally cracked

and given way to her fermented smell

The slightest of winds pass through to stir

the scent of rot and urine undulating

through the air

It slithers through small openings,

breaking free

and spreading out;

allowing sinuous tendrils to unwind

and choke unwitting passer-bye

with its longing for life

It crashes, smashing through clasped nostrils and held breaths,

disregarding its overwhelming nature

in the hopes of sparking a memory.

This sickly sweet scent of

decay and death,

having drawn the attention it ached for

so desperately,

dissipates finally through the town

as doors are forced in

and its decrepit birthplace is

discovered,

lamented,

and buried deep down,

leaving its scream to fade away and die.