I in no way vouch for the authenticity of any of these stories. If people's
lives are so dull that they want to lie about these things, I can't
really stop them... but feel free to call them on it.
"My (Brother's) Brush With Morbidity" by angyleyz
"My brother recently bid on and won an auction for an old house. Its a wonderful, very large house. It has room after room with nooks and crannies everywhere. He recently decided he would do some renovation and lo and behold discovered his 'new' home is an old funeral parlor. He didn't really believe the stories until he began digging in a part of his yard and uncovered bones. It seems that in the olden days when limbs were amputated they just buried them out back instead of in cemeteries. He also found out his 'new' home is sitting on top of an old blood pit. When the bodies were being embalmed they pumped the blood into a pit under the porch. My brother can't do any renovation unless he first empties the pit but it has to be done by a hazardous waste crew. I realize this is my brother's brush with morbidity but bet me... I am never spending a night in his house. I can handle the bones but some thing about that blood pit really freaks me out."
on the other hand? I am seething with jealousy! Such a lovely home to
be wasted on the non-morbid. There ought to be a law...
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Gina
"I'm a second year Funeral Directing student, and today I had my first embalming lab, and I thought I'd share it with you all. Our lab is in the morgue of a hospital in a nearby city. The corpses we get are between one and two months old, and thus aren't the most pleasant to view. We didn't get to work on anyone today, but we did get a quick tour of the facilities. While we were getting the tour of the actual embalming lab, one of the other students was still out in the hallway, and heard something near the refrigerators. 'Something interesting's going on down there, I think they're bringing someone new down. Looks like he's in pieces!' he said. Our teacher decided then was as good of a time as any to get started, and we walked over to where a morgue attendant and somone else from the hospital staff were standing with the refrigerator tray pulled between them. On it were smallish packages that were wrapped like deli meat, in white paper and plastic. At first we thought it was someone in many many parts, but it turned out to be a tray full of dead babies, either stillborns, partial births, or those that died soon after birth in that hospital.
my teacher brought us over to another side of the morgue, and started
pulling people out of their 'fridges to show us. The first we opened
was a big walk-in type fridge, where we didn't see much besides the
dead man's feet. The second, we pulled out a tray that had a woman who
had been dead for about 2 months; she still had either a breathing or
feeding tube in her mouth, and mold was begining to grow on the top
of her head and on the surrounding tray, and her skin was starting to
discolour. After that, we pulled out the tray of a man, who was also
growing mold, but all over his face. His nose was also beginning to
decompose, and his head was completly discoloured. He had been embalmed,
but not too well. His feet, which were unwrapped, were remarkably preserved,
but they had obviously not gotten enough fluid, if any at all, into
"The smell wasn't nearly as bad as I'd been expecting, especially after the students from last semester were talking about pulling out the body and instantly spraying over it with the aerosol sanitizer to cover it up, and putting daubs of vics vaporub in their noses. All in all, it was a very interesting experience, and I'm looking forward to actually begining to embalm someone next week."
people have all the luck, eh?
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Beth
"Imagine this.... You're minding your own business one calm and peaceful night. You're standing next to the fire listening to it crackle and pop as limbs and pinestaw turn to glowing embers and ash. Suddenly there is a loud explosion. In a fraction of a second you begin to feel the most horrendous pain all over your body. You run, fleeing from the fire that just moments ago was so soothing. You still hear the sizzling but you're no longer near the fire, you're on the other side of the field... it is YOU that is sizzling. You run but you cannot outrun the pain. You happen upon the security light beside the house... You look down at your legs and body and see the flesh rolled back. It is black and smoking. Watery liquid is oozing from the open muscle tissue. No one can touch you because when they do your skin sloughs off. The smell of burning fleshy meat permeates the air. Finally, they get you into the car and head for the nearest hospital.... 45 minutes away. The hospital isn't equipped to care for you, so they send you to another state to a specialized burn center. You stay in the hospital ICU ward for a while, then in the regular ward while you heal. Upon your discharge you are wheeled to your car. The same brand new car that got you to the hospital in the first place. You go to get in that car but there is a towel in the seat. Not knowing any better, you move the towel. The sight makes you vomit. In that seat is the impression of your legs, burnt skin and all. This happened to me on June 11, 2002."
is quite possibly the greatest Brush With Morbidity ever.
"My Brush With Morbidity" by mizp
the early 1980's, I was attending college at a branch of the University
of Virginia, in southwest Virginia. One day, a young man, foolishly
riding his motorcycle without a helmet, ran head on into the front of
a large dump truck hauling coal on the road that ran by the campus.
I was on my way to a nearby shop to pick up lunch for the secretaries
of the office I was working part-time in, when I passed the crash site.
Emergency workers waved my car by quickly, so I only caught sight of
a draped figure on a still upright cycle at the front grill of the truck.
The next day, the local paper featured a front page photograph of the
accident--showing the cyclist, still astride the upright bike, with
his head completely buried in the front grill work of the truck. All
I could think of was how horrified his family members must have felt
to open their papers that morning and see their loved one in such a
horrific pose of death."
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Narkitten
deliver meals to homebound elderly. I was making a delivery after a
Memorial Day weekend. Because of the condition of most of my clients,
I have a habit of knocking on the door and entering, announcing myself.
I took one look and knew this guy was gone. He had been sitting there
long enough that the blood had drained from his upper body into his
legs and lower belly. What made it worse was that this gentleman had
a breathing problem and used oxygen assistance. The machine was still
running, giving the illusion that the body still breathed. The only
phone was right by the body. So I tried to use it to call for assistance.
It was broken and missing several numbers. I had the creeps so bad by
now I went to the nearest business to call. Didn't even stop at a neighbor's.
The post office was within walking distance, so ended up there. After
the EMTs arrived it occurred to me that the full case of beer sitting
by this guy's chair was looking awfully good. I couldn't wait to get
out of there."
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Lenny
"My brush with morbidity resulted in my becoming part of a gruesome story -- about the lady that died in an accident.
""When I was a fireman I heard the call for a car accident on a backroad in town. I wasn't a member of the rescue company, so it wasn't my job to respond. But since it was just a few blocks away, I decided to help out anyway. The road is one of those long, winding ones where the speed limit is 30 MPH but everyone goes 40 (or faster, if you're familiar with the twists and turns.) Well, the accident occured at the sharpest turn in the road. You really do have to slow down to make that turn safely.
"It was a head-on collision.
A late-model Mercedes vs. a 1980 (give or take a couple of years) Honda
Civic. No contest there - those old Civics were the size of matchbox
cars! Both cars were badly damaged. It was obvious the Civic had taken
the turn at too high a speed and had crossed the double-yellow line.
The Mercedes had deployed its airbags, so the elderly couple who owned
it were bruised but ended up OK. When I got there they were laying on
the sidewalk, moaning, but under medical care. I went over to the Civic,
which was much more mangled, and saw a solitary driver, no passengers.
He must have been in his early 20's. Muscular, good-looking guy. But
his body was wrapped around the steering column. His arms and legs were
twisted at weird angles, and bones stuck out here and there. Surprisingly,
there wasn't much blood though. There was also a case of beer next to
him, and several empty cans as well. I had never seen a dead body in
person up to that point, and I was so shaken (I was only 19 at the time)
that I backed away from the car and spent the rest of the time there
stringing up the yellow tape and exercising crowd control. I never even
looked back at the body - and that was the LAST time I responded to
a car accident. Like I said, my job wasn't in rescue. I ran in to numerous
burning buildings over my career as a fireman, but I never ever was
as shaken as when I saw that body."
"My Brush With Morbidity" by LeAnn
"My brush with morbidity resulted in my becoming part of a gruesome story -- about the lady that died in an accident.
"When I was really small, somewhere between the ages of 5 and 7 I would guess, we went out for pizza on the Fourth of July. I was with my parents and some friends of theirs. After we ate, we got in the car to go home and I laid down in the back seat. The fireworks were beginning as we were leaving. Suddenly, I realized that our car wasn't moving so I sat up. There were alot of police cars with their lights flashing and at first we thought it was because of the fireworks crowd. Then we noticed the ambulance and the rescue personnel. Apparently, a young man, probably a teenager, had been paying too much attention to the fireworks and not enough attention to the cars driving by. He was laying on the ground still staring up at the fireworks that were lighting up the night sky but he wasn't moving. To this day, I can't watch fireworks without thinking about him."
had a similar experience when I was a kid, only I was the dummy laying
on the road staring at the tiny pinpoints of fireworks many miles away
across the canyon. (Yes, that's how pathetic my Fourth of July's were
as a kid.) Luckily (I suppose), I was quick enough to get out of the
path of the oncoming vehicle. Ah, the follies of youth...
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Liz
"My brush with morbidity resulted in my becoming part of a gruesome story -- about the lady that died in an accident.
"I was in the car with my 4 month old daughter and (now ex) husband. My daughter was in her car seat, in the middle of the back seat, and I was sitting next to her, in the back passenger-side seat, not strapped in; my ex was strapped into his seat belt in the driver's seat. I remember leaning over to put my hand on her forehead as we turned into my grandmother's driveway, since I knew there was a bump and I didn't want her head to be flopping around, as small children's heads tend to do.
next thing I remember is staring up at my ex's father -- he had been
visiting my grandmother -- and he and my ex were crouched over me in
the back seat, calling my name. I promptly passed out again. This happened
several times, and it took me quite a while to come around enough to
comprehend that we'd been in an accident. A man, drunk and without his
lights on in the dim, rainy daylight, had swerved off the narrow country
road and plowed through the ditch,
car had been spun around, and had landed facing back toward the street,
on the other side of the driveway. I, not being seat-belted, had been
flung into the back passenger-side window and then back into the car,
unconscious. My family had piled out of the house and taken my daughter,
who was uninjured but screaming lustily, out of the car. When I fuzzily
came around, for perhaps the third or fourth time, I looked around and
saw that my daughter's car seat
"This is where the rumor comes in -- every time I would attain consciousness, I would scream because I thought my daughter was dead; they would show her to me; I would stop screaming; and then I would pass out. It took nearly 15 minutes for the police and ambulance to reach the accident, since we were pretty far out in the country, so this sequence of events was replayed over and over. Shampoo; rinse; repeat.
story that became legend around the neighborhood was that a woman had
been horribly mangled in the accident, as evidenced by her bloodcurdling
screams. I heard, variously, that I had been cut in half; disemboweled;
and had my face ripped off. Every telling of it seemed to embellish
it more, and no matter how many times I tried to clear it up and assert
that it was me, and that I had escaped with a slight concussion and
some cuts from the glass, people were
not often that you can claim to being the originator of an urban legend.
Well done, Liz!
"My Brush With Death" by Melissa
"I have been a little morbid ever since my brush with death. I wonder if this happens with other people.
"I was pregnant with my 2nd child and was diagnosed with a cin4 papsmear.... cancer. I was given the choice to abort and treat or let it ride and take my chances. I took my chances, but I lost my son at about 6 months. I had a funeral for him and began treatment for cancer, which involved surgically removing the carcinoma in situ. After the surgery, I bled and did not stop bleeding but was sent home anyway. After 2 days of much blood loss the dam broke and I started bleeding out. I remember opening my eyes and things not looking right. It was about 3AM I tried to get up to go to the bathroom, but felt like my limbs were in ice. People think that bleeding to death ie slitting wrists for suicide will be peaceful.... bleeding to death is the most horribly painful thing I have ever experienced. I rember my older daughter running to get my mother and my mom totally freaking out. I now know I was white and blueish... plus I was seizing in between seconds of lucidity. The ambulance got there and being loaded into it. After that I can only remember blackness, hearing as if my head was underwater, and knowing what was around me even though I was "dead". I didn't see a white light or a tunnel, no Jesus or dead relatives. I didn't see a thing, but at least the pain ended. I did sense something odd there with me. Could have been just my messed up perception, but I still feel it sometimes. Something not quite right and a dream like quality.... prolly brain damage :)"
you for sharing your story, Melissa. And we know you can't be tooooo
brain damaged if you enjoy Morbid Fact Du Jour, right? ;)
"My Great-Grandmother's Brush With Morbidity" by TJ
"Im writing you to let you know about something pretty morbid that happened in my family. I am named after all of my grandfathers and I was talking about it with my great-grandmother last Saturday. In the middle of the conversation I felt the urge to ask her how he died. She got this scared, just saw a ghost look on her face. She said it was a horrible death. He had battled lung cancer for a couple of years but it eventually spread to his heart. She was in the hospital with him when all of a sudden, she said, It looked like his heart popped. She said blood came out of his mouth, eyes, and ears. She was the only one in the hospital room at the time. That must have been brutal."
think I'll have nightmares about this one for awhile... <shudder>
"My Friend, The Medical Student" by Sam
"My friend is is a medical student who was let loose on a body on her second week, to my great jealousy. However, her knowing that I have a 'morbid curiousity', I get regular descriptions of her work. I asked her if I could pass it along to you (and possibly to thousands of others), and she didn't mind... I thought you might enjoy:
"I've just finished the day 9 - 5 in the dissection room and I smell! I walked in this morning with ringing in my ears, still there from the night before. It did not bode well for a day with Jim the Cadaver. Plus it was hot. I am never hot in [insert city somewhere in Britain here], except in the dissection room... Oh well. The smell is overwhelming. The bodies are embalmed with formaldehyde so to begin with they just smelt of that but now we have been cutting them up they generally stink of dead corpses... So I get in there, we are all in our white coats with name badges on and dissecting instruments in our pockets.
"The room has about 30 dead bodies (or rather bits of dead bodies) in it. On one side there are lots of organs and sections from dead bodies enbalmed in plastic boxes. Some of the vessels have been painted, which looks a little surreal as they are actually body parts. A few of them have gone moldy, which I find disgusting. Interesting how I don't mind the bodies but mold I find repulsive... and every so often one of the boxes springs a leak, which has to be fixed pretty damn quick! On the other side of the room are large dissecting instruments, the ones which we don't actually own ourselves. There are various sizes of saws and drills. The room is completely white with a glass roof which lets in much more light.
"The skin feels like leather, although it is a little easier to cut through. The fat is like scrambled egg and the muscles are like tuna. On the bodies that have not been embalmed well enough it is like steak. On one of the bodies near me there is gangrene on the back. Not boding well for the insides which are probably liquid! Today we did the front of the thigh. It was quite interesting... but I can't wait to get digging deeper. One of the bodies had a clip which is used to clap off a blood vessel in an operation still in the leg!!! And so many people were wading through fat all day, good luck to them when they get the bottom!!!
"The second years have been at the face. When we turned it over the other day the skin came off and then a second later so did the lips! The top of the skull also fell off and rolled around the floor. You could seriously use it like a fascia (posh word for fat) bowl. The brains have been taken out, but there are some around the room. Very interesting to look at. A couple of people have fungus growing on their feet (of their cadavers, not themselves!)
"Anyway, the day starts with the guy in charge telling us what we have to do (he is an orthopedic surgeon). A nice guy but he likes the sound of his voice too much. So normally I read up on what we have to do beforehand and turn off whilst he is explaining. Then we just get down to work, basically hack away (in the most respectful way). One of the people on my table got fascia in their mouth again today...disgusting!!! The scalpel-happy girl was no where to be seen today so that was a good thing since our network of vessels are still intact!
"I don't really know what else to tell you. In the wider picture, yes it is really awful, but when I am in there I disconnect and we all have a laugh and joke about it, so it becomes more of a social thing....in the best possible way! It is definitely unlike anything I have ever experienced before and has to be experienced to be understood. There is loads more to tell you but I am tired, it has been a long day, and I have to go on a pub crawl tonight! I'll tell you more tomorrow when my brain is ticking over properly. For now I hope that satisfies your morbid curiosity."
it does! I can't get over the thought of fascia in the mouth and I think
the scalpel-happy girl would make an excellent Halloween costume.
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Amanda Fringer
"The day after Christmas I decided to drive from Chicago to Tulsa. It is about 11 hours but up until Kankakee, IL it was uneventful. I kept playing leapfrog with this white car. The driver had long curly blonde hair which was just a few inches longer than mine. We both ended up pulling of in the same rest area and joked about leapfrog. When we got back on the highway I got off to get gas. When I got back on there were emergency vehicles and two cars in an accident. When I got closer to the accident I realized that one of the cars was the white one. On two sides were people with sheets blocking the view but because of the gaper's block I could see in between. As I was looking to see if she was ok I saw a fireman/paramedic pick up a hand full of blonde hair out of the back seat. To my horror I realized that it was the woman's head. The had being doing over 80 miles an hour, been tapped on the bumper, hit a light pole and somehow she had been decapitated. I am guessing her husband was ok, just knocked out, as they put him in the ambulance with sirens. They just put her head in the body bag with the body and rolled it away on the stretcher. After seeing that while listening to "You Can Call Me Al" by Paul Simon that song has wonderful imagery now."
thank goodness that something useful came out of that ghastly song after
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Meagan
"I was around 17 years old and I was driving through the Mojave desert with my mother and my sister. It was very early in the morning, [and] we had been driving all night. We rounded this bend in the road and saw 2 cars, one on either side of the road. One was very small, like a Dodge Colt or something, and on fire. Some truckers had already stopped and were dousing the car with an extinguisher. The other car was flipped over and also on fire. We stopped to see if we could help since no paramedics were on the scene yet. My mother is a nurse and all of us were CPR and first aid trained. We went over to the small car first. The frame was all smashed up and was actually smashed into the driver. My mother went up to feel for a pulse. There was none. I took my first look at a dead person. His hand was swollen. His skin looked fake. He was grey. He had been driving with a little girl in the car, who was so scared she was completely catatonic. She had glass in her eyes and her femur was broken. Then we went to see what we could do for the people in the other car. The man had a compund fracture in his ankle and his bone was protruding. His pants were all bloody. He was moaning, but pretty alert. The woman was in serious trouble. She had hit her head and it was so swollen, she looked like a depiction of the grey aliens. Big heads with small features. Her skin looked greenish. She was just laying there moaning and bleeding. She was completely out of it. We had used some of our blankets to cover them up. Once the paramedics arrived, we decided to leave and when we got back to the car I noticed there was blood all over my blanket. I drive through the Mojave often since I have family in Nevada. I can still pick out the spot where the accident was. It has been about 7 years. I will never forget it."
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Venus
"When I was a Junior in High School we had a career day where we were able to spend the day with a person in the profession of our choice. I picked Forensic Pathology. So instead of going to school that day I went to the local morgue. The first thing that the M.E. did was the external examination, examining her closely and taking notes. Then, without warning she pulled out a needle and inserted it into the dead woman's eyeball and then proceeded to suck out all of the eye-juices. The eye deflated like a beachball in the ladies skull. Yummy. Then came the actual autopsy where they started yanking out random organs and taking splices of them to send to toxicology. When they cut the main artery to get the heart out half congealed blood oozed out all over the open chest cavity. I couldn't see the heart real well because it was an old overweight woman and the heart was covered all the way round with a layer of fat. Then they slit her scalp open from ear to ear and peeled the skin away from the skull. They had the front flap peeled down to her eye sockets. And they used a saw to cut off the top of her skull. When they opened the skull a huge subdermal hematoma (blood clot inside the skull) slid out of her head onto the table and started to spread out like an amoebae. It had the consistency of jello that hadn't been all the way frozen. The clot was so big and had put so much pressure on her brain that the whole right side of the brain had collapsed in. Apparently she fell and hit her head. Then they took all of her organs, brain included and put it all together in a trash bag and put the bag in her chest cavity and then they sewed her up. And they unpeeled the scalp back up and sewed that back together (after popping the top of the skull back in place, of course) and then they zipped her back into a bag and it was off to the funeral home for her! All in all it was a rich full day!"
Some kids have all the luck...
"My Brush With Morbidity" by Wilf
"For many years (beginning in the 80's and lasting into the 90's) a few close friends and my family used to call me Dr. death. Not because i was a qualified medic killing off old folks but because I surrounded by moribundity. Fortunately I no longer have this soubriquet but it did last for a while.
"It started when I was about twelve years old. I was walking in my local park which was beside a major road in London. I heard a roar and saw a ferrari going way too fast along the road. As I watched it had a blow-out span and hit a motorcyclist sending his leg in a large arc about thirty or so metres up the road. There was flesh and bone everywhere. The cyclist died later from shock and massive blood loss/hemorrhaging. After this came a deluge of death.
"Two weeks later a friend of mine was killed on the same stretch of road while trying to cross. Two other friends (Sharon and Damian) within the year were dead from sudden and incurable cancers. About a year and half later a friend was decapitated when he rode a stolen motercycle into a bus. Another year later and another cancer. Another year another friend dead in another road accident. A year later and another cancer.
"That same year I was on the metro in london and witnessed two people throwing themselves under trains. One died instantly, the other was screaming and very much alive but no longer connected to their legs. I learned later that they had survived.
"That same year also I was having a drink with a friend when he felt that his trousers were wet. He stood up and I saw he what was wet was blood. I suggested, quite vehemently that he go to the hospital but instead he said, "well, I'll have another pint then I'll go home to lie down for a bit." He was dead two hours later.
"At this point I was just about leave for university and a new start. I moved to Liverpool in the north and the day after my arrival I was wandering the streets getting to know the town when a man not five yards in front of me toppled over and was stone dead. During my next vacation a friend was having his little chap removed (gangrene, a nasty story in it's entirity) and died of total organ failure. Two friends that same year committed suicide. Of a group of 10 drinking partners who used to meet at a pub on friday nights regularly, only three survive. (three died from cancer, though they are not mentioned here.)
"I have been living in Mexico for four years now but am fortunately moribundity free. I may no longer be Dr. Death, but I am, understandably, nervous."
Apparently, Wilf's friend with the wet trousers died of an internal hemorrhage brought about by years of drinking a little too much. Just so you don't write and ask...
"My brother left a party one evening with his wife and 3 kids (about half an hour after I did, which means I missed everything), and on the highway he slowed down because he noticed an accident scene up front. The police got there about the same time as they did, so they hadn't closed any parts of the highway yet. My brother was looking at the police cars, and not the road directly in front of him when he drove over a body (or rather, hopefully it was a body, and not somebody that was still alive). The next morning his wife got up, and was standing outside when she noticed the dog was chewing something. It was the jaw of the person they drove over. In some way the jaw got stuck on the car. They were too grossed out to touch it, so they just left the dog to finish eating it."
Hmmmmm... call me cynical, but I'm finding this one just a little too good to be true. But if it is true, that's a *literal* brush with morbidity!
"My grandfather was an airplane mechanic on one of the tiny islands in the South Pacific during WWII. The normal sights they would deal with were grisly enough, seeing all the shot-up planes and what-not, but there were a couple especially grisly events. First I will give you some background on the mechanics of one of the planes. I am sorry that I can't recall the name but it was a type of bomber that had rotating .50 caliber turrets in various places. Well, the way they work is they can hold down the trigger and fire at a plane that is flying around them and the guns automatically stop firing as the turret would come in line with its own airplane body. That way they could hold down the trigger and keep following the enemy plane as it went on the other side. Well, with one particular plane that came in the stopping mechanism broke and the turret continued firing into its own belly completely demolishing anything and anyone inside. When the plane came into the base my grandpa was part of the volunteer clean-up crew that took care of the mess of blood and body parts. He mentioned that there was absolutely nothing left of them. Another instance that he saw was a fighter plane that was shot up pretty badly (this time by enemy fire) and nearly made it to the runway. Well, of course, that didn't happen: just before it made it the plane nose dived right into the ground. When they went to look at the wreckage the pilot was so messed up one of his arms was found in front of the firewall by the engine. They never could figure out how it got in front."
WWII veterans are known for their stoic reluctance to discuss disturbing details from the war with their families, so bravo for Kainlane's grandpa for coming clean!
"My dad was driving on I-64 through Illinois - a long, straight, mostly flat slice through endless cornfields. He was going about 65mph. A small pickup truck passed him, pulling one of those small U-Haul trailers with 'Max Speed 45mph' emblazoned on the back.
"Soon after the truck passed him, the trailer started to swing gently side to side. My father slowed down, knowing that once a trailer starts fishtailing it's difficult to stop. Evidently the two men in the truck didn't know any better - they didn't slow down.
"After ten seconds or so the trailer was swinging wildly side to side. The truck tried to pull to the side of the road, which just made the trailer swing around and flip the truck down the embankment. It rolled several times and stopped at the bottom of the hill.
"My dad pulled over and went down to check on the men. The driver was laying by the side of the truck, quite dead. His legs were turned 90 degrees from his torso - not bent forward at the waist, but sideways. The passenger was thrown about 100 feet, and lay dead in a crumpled heap.
"Found out later the driver was the 63 year old father of the 35 year old passenger. Don't know what was in the trailer, but I like to imagine it was the body parts of their massacred family whose spirits reached out and took the lives of their murderers. Probably just furniture, though."
I like your style, Hex!
"I have a cousin that works at a mortuary and moonlights for the County at the Coroners office. One day, I was at work and my car broke down. He worked not too far away from me so I called him for a ride home. What was my surprise but he picked me up in the Coroners van. He had just gone out for a call and had picked up bodies from a crime scene. I rode in the van with a 2 gun shot victims, one of which was a little girl. Needless to say, I stayed in my seat the whole ride home and never called him for a ride again."
Never called him for a ride again?!?!?!? I would be constantly contriving to find reasons for him to give me rides!
Brushes With Morbidity...