We crawled through the old, rickety fence. As we got closer, the foul stench of the dumpster reached our noses. I gagged and plugged my nose. I refused to blow chunks in front of James. We stood up, dusting our clothes off. "Alright. Are you ready?" James asked. "Sure." I answered, wanting this to be over with. He lifted the lid to the dumpster and we both screamed in horror. In the nasty dumpster, there was the remains of a man. Parts of him were missing. Maggots feasted upon his rotting flesh. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I turned and the contents of my stomach poured out into the grass. I regretted accepting Chris's dare to investigate the dumpster.
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My Creative Writing
Historia CortaThis is a collection of some creative writing that I've been working on.
