The hand lay on the ground, rotting in its state. Maggots feasted on its flesh tearing in little by little. There was nobody attached to it; it was just a hand. It rested under the bush shielded from view but not from scent.
The hand gave off a stench worse than anything anyone could possibly imagine. It was the complete and total stench of death; a stench of damned odor, seemingly coming strait from hell itself.
A man ambled passed the bush and stopped at the stench. He breathed in deeply, the odor caressing his nostrils. He exhaled, smiled, and bent down to examine the rotting specimen.
He reached down with his red stained hands, and squatted over the hand. He pulled back the bush wiping the red substance on the lower hanging vegetation. The substance was not his. He smiled again and picked up the hand trying to shake off the maggots that held on tightly.
“Ahh… I knew I forgot something.”