Maggots

They were like a writhing churning bowl of rice. They spilled from his guts. I don't know how long he had been dead but it was long enough to grow a respectable crop of maggots. Never mind the smell or the blueish purple of his visible skin, it is the avalanche of fly larvae tumbling from the rip in his gut that really got to me. I tried really hard to contain it, but my lunch puddled next to the newly discovered corpse.

I turn to the CSI entering behind me. "Don't bother sampling the vomit, it's chicken chow mein."

Prompt ▼

1 word- maggots