I didn't need the crime scene tape, my nose led the way.  As if the smell couldn't tell me, a flurry of flies announced that I had arrived. She'd been hidden there in the tall grass until Decomposition pointed an ugly finger in her direction.

     In this neighborhood, people are quick to recognize the smell for what it is - Death. Hers was a particularly ugly, violent death. Decomposition is never kind, but her insect activity suggested many wounds. I stood over her, ignored the gore, and let the maggots talk. Gobs of rice-like inchworms clung and crawled thick in isolated areas of her arms, belly, and side. Bugs always hit the openings first, and she must have had a lot of openings. Waves of maggots rippled across her face, giving the surreal impression that she was moving.

     At first glance, she was a monster, a maggot-ridden Medusa. But as my eyes moved across her body, I looked past the maggots, past the bloating, past the smell, and I saw her fingers. Although they were slightly mummified, baking in the sunlight was a fresh manicure. On a base of bright pink thumbnails, tiny flowers proudly waved at me. She was wearing one tennis shoe. A dirty sock dangled from her other foot. There, peeking from beneath the sock, another flower waved at me from the pink base of a toe. A maggot inched his way across the toe, but the manicured flower continued to shine.

     This was no monster. This creature at my feet had been a living, breathing woman, who not long ago, sat in a chair, picked out her color, and chose flowers for her toes.  I stood there, taking it all in.  A wildflower beside her body caught my eye.  For a moment, I looked past the gore and sighed. Then I lifted my camera and began.