Pus oozing from a gangrenous head, rotting limbs left in landfills; these were the smells she dreamed of. But her favorite and most fantastic dream was the one she had experienced this afternoon: The horsehead. In her dream, the horsehead is fresh, never rotten, and the blood is still warm, so warm its iron odor assaults her nose.
She is lying on her back and takes the head by the ears, draws it close to her face. She licks the horsehead's nostrils so they glisten with her saliva and thrusts her tongue deep inside each one, collecting nuggets of dried mucous to swallow.
More to come. Happy on-line stalking, sis!