Stanky Leg Novels & Stories

His left leg—God. The calf had been opened by something brutal. The wound had healed wrong. Flesh clung like melted wax to exposed sinew. The skin was raw in some places, thick and gray in others, like tree bark trying to be skin. Underneath, I could see the bone, actual bone, where the tissue had peeled away entirely. Infection had eaten part of the muscle—dark spots where rot had caved in soft tissue. A faint, sick-sweet smell clung to the air, like spoiled meat under antiseptic.

“No. Hell no. He had it coming. I’ve let him and his precious little fan club step on me for years. If anything, I was nice about it.” With a huff, I stomp my foot, spin on my heel, and march forward again. My legs are just dragging me wherever they please at this point. Maybe straight into the jaws of a rogue. Wouldn’t that be poetic? Also—I smell like death. Not like actual death, more like… the essence of it. Spoiled tomatoes, stale milk, something fruity and rotten I can’t even identify, and, what’s that? Oh yeah. Roasted chicken. What kind of disgusting buffet am I carrying on my skin right now?

My right leg was killing me, my mind and body were exhausted, and I was covered in sticky wine that would probably attract all kinds of insects. It was going to be a very long night.

The one white barber in Lonesome Dove, a fellow Tennessean named Dillard Brawley, had to do his barbering on one leg because he had not been cautious enough about centipedes. Two of the vicious red-legged variety had crawled into his pants one night and Dillard had got up in a hurry and had neglected to shake out the pants. The leg hadn’t totally rotted off, but it had rotted sufficiently that the family got nervous about blood poisoning and persuaded he and Call to saw it off.

Olivia The stink of the prison tickles my nostrils. This place is filthy; every surface I touch feels grimy and sticks to my skin and clothing like glue. The smell is the most unbearable part. It's the kind of smell that can't be identified. It's a sickly sweet rotten smell. The kind of smell that can only be associated with places of misery like this. It reeks of death.

Scarlett I attempted to move, to stretch, to find a little comfort on the damp floor, but every single position proved to be too much for my rigid muscles. The little space was pervaded with repugnant stench of stale urine and rotten meat. My nose wrinkled, attempting to control the amount of the foul air that seeped into my lungs.

I should be gloating. A stench… never-ending sulphuric stench of this shithole mixed with the reeking foul odour of cadavers of fallen demons who started the rotting process. It consumes all the senses, lingering its putrid odour deeply into our skin. The mixture of ashes, mud, debris and black dust rose thick in the air, creating foggy clouds, almost like a cloud curtain that stuck its ugliness in our eyes, provoking eye-watering and gagging reflexes. Inhaling this necrotic air irritates the nose, provokes tears and clogs our lungs.

Derek Stygian’s stripper's club was bathed in a deep red light. The kind that makes everything look darker than it really was. Shadows moved along the walls as slow music played through hidden speakers, the bass low and steady like a heartbeat. The air felt hot with sin, heavy with smokes of their cigarettes, filled with sweat of the male strippers and the tables were filled with expensive alcohol. Not everyone in the city was allowed into Stygian's secret cult. Only those who are ready to sell their soul for discretion are allowed in.

He took a step back, watching her stricken face. Her legs shook as she struggled to stand on her own, her knees felt weak, her hands weakly tried to hold on to the slippery wall, failing. But more prominently, she realised, the throb in between her legs was most weakening, distracting.

An odor coming from accumulated fecals, dirt, and mud. “Call Alpha Kaylon. Clearly I didn't know what to do with this strange creature. It's the weirdest being I've ever seen my whole dämn life.” The man's brows furrowed as he was trying to figure out what he was looking at. He was looking at her full of disgust.