The carrion eating insects detected my odor, and climbed over layers of decomposing leaves, rushing from various directions. Their decay of the body is accompanied by their feasting, completing a cycle of returning to nature.
Of course, the multitude of them crawling all over my body made me somewhat uncomfortable, similar to the feeling of excrement passing out of the body after death, very embarrassing. I couldn't close my eyes, so my eyeballs were naturally gnawed on. I actually wished they would gnaw quickly. Because it always rains here at night, pitter pattering and dripping down my eyes, making me appear as if I were crying.
Suddenly, I became curious about what I looked like in the aesthetic of these insects. In any case, being dead is definitely cuter than being alive; when I was alive, I certainly didn't have a harem of three thousand insect beauties.
However, as time passed, I quickly lost the attention of the insects, for I had turned into a pile of bones. Many insects treated me as a somewhat rugged path, which was seemingly the only purpose for my current existence. The tree leaning behind me was very considerate; it gave me clothes and a hat. Although sometimes the leaves didn't fall in the right place, smudging my face, or sometimes the youthful and rebellious phase of leaves running away from home has given me an extra green hat for no reason. But I don't blame it; I never had a girlfriend, so I don't care much about such things.
(An expression of when a woman cheat on her husband or boyfriend)
The sun and the pregnant clouds constantly engage in battles, resulting in unpredictable weather.
The microorganisms in the forest gradually decomposed the leaves on my body, facing a scarcity of clothing and food. By winter, I sat near the big tree looking almost the same as before I died, assuming my body still had flesh to fill out the clothes.
I also sleep, and upon waking, it takes a few seconds to accept the situation of not being able to move. Then, I'd resentfully think, "Well, this grandpa is just going to sit here and not get up!" That kind of arrogant thought is quite different from when I had a brain. As the saying goes, those who are barefoot aren't afraid of those with shoes, so those without brains naturally aren't afraid of those with brains.
(Idiom; the poor who have nothing to lose, do not fear those in power)
Even though everything around me is not afraid of me, humans, as the only species that can make up stories to scare themselves, use me as a means to frighten themselves. I'm always idle. The first person to discover me was a girl, and she screamed in a cliche manner. I thought, "Girl, a few years ago, we were at least of the same kind, can't you save me some face?" Considering I'm nothing but a skeleton. She fled in a very embarrassing manner. What's so scary about me? Isn't it just because I have no flesh? What happened to the weight loss plan?
I'm always idle. The second person who found me was a man. He was very calm and steadfast as he approached me. He put me in his backpack. He put me in his backpack? He put me in his backpack!!!
Before I died I was a materialist and even after death I didn't have any awareness of this residual state called soul. But now I felt it, the soul being pulled like a rubber band as he squeezed my nearly falling apart body into the backpack. When the body was completely squeezed together, the soul was also twisted into a lump. In short, my soul was distorted.
Since my death, I have rarely thought. Or rather, I deliberately don't think for fear of not being able to endure the long hours of not knowing what to call it. My skull rubbed against the zip as he moved, and I certainly didn't feel the touch♪, just that the soul like a rubber band with little elasticity has somewhat detached from my body, and I saw it. I saw my own body for the first time.
Like this, a male pervert stole a skeleton from the forest. Is it for bone soup or charcoal-grilled thigh bones? Is it a lifelike human bone model or a perversive collection? I can't fathom his intentions. He surely wouldn't bury me in a cemetery, would he?
After a bumping journey, he finally stopped, put the backpack down, and unzipped it. I saw a gravestone.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Corpse
Short StoryI died. My body turned into white bones and he still found me. Plot summary: I decayed into white bones under a tree, but one day I was unexpectedly brought home by a man. His name is Lu Nan. He believes that I'm his lover who disappeared after a ca...
