View Full Version : True stories of physical contact with a corpse. I SHARED MINE, DO SHARE YOURS.

11-04-09, 03:12 PM
It's such a rare occurrence, isn't it? But I'm SURE I'm not the only one who had the opportunity to touch a lovely dead body. I'll share my story with you, but PLEASE, if you have a story I'd love to read it!

My story takes place a year ago in Fort Lauderdale. I had been walking home from my afternoon classes at AI. The streets and sidewalks were actually quite alive with all sorts of people going to a fro from work and classes that day. A driver had driven carelessly near me, almost striking me as I strolled onto the walkway of a strip mall. I didn't think much of it. Then, without any additional warning, shots were fired and I turned in time to see a young man collapse to the pavement. The car promptly sped off. It happened so quickly that no one realized what had just occurred. I was the first to react. Without much hesitation, I ran to the limp body and knelt beside his head, turning his face toward me. As soon as I was sure he was a stranger, I called out for someone to get an ambulance. For show. Because I knew he was dead. His chest didn't rise and he wasn't at all responsive. By this time, there was already a crowd quickly forming around the mankill and I.

At this point I was just trying to look like I knew what I was doing. I had tilted his head back and stroked about his neck, checking for a pulse, but not expecting one. I had slid his eyelids wider open to find some focus in his pupils, but didn't expect any. In reality, I was enjoying the sight and presence of him. Without my intervention, his eyes were barely open and his mouth slightly agape. He still had color in his face and sweat still ran from his pores. He looked as if he were dreaming. His tank top shirt clung to the skin around the bullets' entries where tiny blood stains had began forming. He was a beautiful mess.

Eventually, another man joined me in tending to the corpse and went through the trouble of straightening out his legs. (He had fallen onto his back with his legs bent quite unnaturally on either side of him.) After he looked more comfortable in death I held his face upright and stared down at him, hoping my intense fascination with the dead stranger didn't come off as inappropriate to the onlookers. If anything, they thought he was a friend of mine.

All the while, I had to control the urges that bombarded my brain. Urges that told me to nuzzle his forehead. Made me want to explore the bullet wounds about his slender chest and stomach. Made me want to lick up the blood that trickled down his skin. I wanted privacy with him to do all the ungodly things that ran through my mind as all I could do in public was stroke his lifeless cheek. I stayed beside him until authorities came with a body bag.

I was then asked to fill out witness report and all that jazz. The shooters were caught that same day after a car chase and a short foot pursuit. I don't recall hearing much about their prison sentence. The family of the deceased didn't give permission for use of his name on air.

I've had a fascination for the dead long before this event occurred. I was just lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time.