Stanky Leg の小説・ストーリー

Its red tongue hangs out like a dog's. Sitting up, I walk backward across the leaf-covered ground, but immediately bump into the legs of another Alpha. Before I have a chance to scream, he kicks me onto my stomach. Now there are more of them. At least a dozen, their heavy feet stomping and crushing the branches and bushes. They are panting, and the air is thick with their overpowering stench, like a wet dog crossed with the worst guard dog. you can imagine. The smell is so strong it makes me vomit.

“Then it’s just her and Stumpy.” “What if I don’t like Stumpy looking at my girl?” I growled. Girard chuckled. “Stumpy’s like eighty years old and he’s missing a leg. Trust me, she’d be giving him the thrill of a lifetime just to be able to watch.” I scowled at Girard. “I don’t like-” “Son, I don’t care what you don’t like. That’s the best I can do for you. Now, get to eating,” Girard barked.

I scribble her name on a sticky note and book an Uber. The car slows down as we near a rundown section of the pack. Litter adorns the streets, spilling out of bins, food wraps tossed carelessly, fat maggots crawling around. My nose crinkles, nausea rising up my throat as I open the door; the strong stench of urine, trash, body odours, and filth choking my nostrils.

Havermouth, Present Time The room stank. They could smell it the moment they started down the hallway. Old blood, rotten flesh, and rodents. Connery made a noise in the back of his throat and fished in his pockets producing a handkerchief and stuffing it full of herbs from a pouch. He held it out to Meguitte who smiled and shook her head ruefully. She had smelled this particular scent before, many times over the centuries, during plagues and in the dungeons where people were tortured and left to rot.

It reeked of death and held the record of the most deaths in one place in all of Lupestone. “We… we really shouldn't be here,” I tried to steady my voice–hide my fear. An acrid stench hung in the air–a sickening mixture of agony and fear–that made a stomach wrenching mixture that made me want to throw up. I exhaled deeply, a feeble attempt to calm myself. My leg kicked something. I looked down. A skull lay near my feet with eyeballs bulging in their sockets. They seemed to be alive, staring at me. I moved away from it.

But unfortunately, Lavina was no less crazy, “Oh really? Thank you for the medicine you put in my food last night. It's the drug that makes me lust, not your impotent dick, you bastard!" []

The scent was suffocating me, causing fear to pulse through my veins. On my left leg, I have a scar on the right side of my knee from where glass had sliced me. A dozen smaller ones marred the surrounding area from when I’d kneed over the shattered glass. I close my eyes and fail to block out the memory. The guy behind me smelled like it. The heady scent of Beggermeister had the contents in my stomach rushing up to my throat—making me want to bend over and empty the contents of my stomach.

With Conrad’s physical capabilities, he was less tired than he was stuck. All of a sudden, a rancid odour attacked everyone’s nostrils. Some even gagged from it. Even Angie’s eyes watered. What was that stink? It was horrifying that they could smell it through their masks. Everyone looked around while waving their hands, trying to locate the source of the stink. Fumes rising from the bottom of their boots caught Angie’s attention. She raised her foot up and realised that the soles were corroding away. /It didn’t get this bad in the book./

He looked to be the same age as Ethan, but he had a limp that came from a leg healed wrong from a fracture. His hair was a mess, and the dirt on his clothes was so thick that it made them stiffen. He limped forward with a cane while drooling and looking like he was not mentally all there. Once he got closer, we could smell a sourish, foul smell from him, and everyone stepped back. Then, he grabbed Margaret’s floral dress and said, “Hungry… Food…”

Trouble is not anosmic as you would think. Trouble stinks, with a fetid aroma like sulphur roasting a corpse. My nose has been trained to seek it out since the day a lorry tried to put its metal rib cage straight through Mum and I, since the day i woke up in n a hospital bed with an inferno in my lungs and lead flowing in my veins.