Smelling Terrible Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

He smiled lazily, revealing yellowed teeth. "I was wondering who would knock on my door at this hour! So it's the great beauty, the famous Helena! Come in, don't stand there. As soon as Helena crossed the threshold, a nauseating odor hit her like a physical punch. It was a pungent mixture of cheap alcohol, cigarette smoke, dirty socks, and mold impregnated in the walls. The stench was so unbearable that it rivaled the biochemical weapon of Surströmming that morning. However, Helena didn't even frown. She stood upright, like a queen entering a pigsty.

But peace didn’t last. My nose wrinkled as a putrid stench filled the entire room making me retch. It was the smell of rotten flesh. The kind of foul odor that stayed at the back of your throat and made your stomach turn upside down. I gagged, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth, my eyes glancing around desperately trying to find the source of the smell. I looked across the polished rug beneath the long dining table. A dark stain seemed to seep into the material, spreading slowly, like something wet.

The jagged chunk of missing flesh on his calf tells me why he most likely killed himself. The second we open the door, the smell hits us, as if we had just stepped into a landfill in the middle of a Texas July. It's overwhelming and all encompassing, suffocating and choking us. I can practically taste it in the back of my throat, and it forces me to gag harshly. Bending over with my hands on my knees, I force myself to take slow, deep breaths through the mouth instead of the nose. We need to search this room for any supplies, but I can't get past my sensitive gag reflex.

She held her fingers to her nose and looked like she was seconds away from puking. I sniffed the air unconsciously and frowned at her. I couldn't smell anything different from a second ago. "What's wrong?" I asked in confusion. She gaped at me through watering eyes. "Don't you smell it? It's rotten and awful! It's like something straight out of the sewers!" "Perhaps you should check yourself. Sometimes a person is caught off guard when they smell themselves after they skip the shower for a few weeks." Sarah's voice was sweet and soft, but the words sounded like an insult to my ears.

It was a bunch of people that looked like people and smelt like people. They must have been humans, but they had a rather strange smell. From them, emanating an unpleasant smell, they smelled like Yeg smell and human smell mixed and were so intense that it could almost make Selina's sense of smell paralyzed, unable to sense anything. But the strongest, still the smell of fresh blood, but the smell of fresh blood was not sweet at all but exuded a stench, fishy, like stinking garbage, and as disgusting as worms moving.

The choking sensation made it impossible for her to exert any force. Suddenly, Tobias caught a nauseating scent he had never encountered before, a foul odor of cheap red wine mixed with rotting leaves and the sourness of spoiled grapes. It was the most repulsive and disgusting smell he had ever experienced. He turned to the source of this repulsive odor—his mate. "Let her go!" Alicia clenched her fists, her eyes crimson with anger as she glared at Damian—no, Tobias.

I asked her. "Maybe. What does this old Maurice smell like?" She asked me. "You know, the usual. Old age, sweat, manly, do I mention dirt and yes, he smokes something I cannot figure out." I said to her, "Tobacco?" She asked me. "Is that it? It smells musky and somehow nice." I said to her, "That's tobacco and I think I can smell it." She said to me, "How?" I asked her. "Seriously, Clara. Link to me. Link with your inner wolf." She responded.

“Ugh!" The sudden stench from the leave hit me like a punch in the face as the smell of Cassandra's perfume disintegrated completely. The new smell was bitter, rotting and like a mix of old blood and fermented bile. I gagged and threw it away from me on instinct, my skin crawling from how foul it was. The parchment fluttered to the floor next to it, releasing more of that god-awful scent.

Whiskey. I hate this place. I hate this smell. The stench of wet dog and fear. It’s repugnant. When someone dies suddenly, they leave behind the stench of their last thoughts. I've come to find that most of the time those thoughts are ones of fear. I hate the smell of it. It's what comes after, that I like the most. The scent of death. Blood, mixed with pain and a hint of helplessness, all thrown together with the scent of decaying flesh. That is the smell I like. That is what I want to be able to smell all day. If I could, I would infuse the horrendous sent into a perfume and wear it daily. The bringer of death, carrying with her the scent of your doom. Sounds good doesn’t it.