The Catastrophe by Wajeeha R
The smell hit me before I even touched the handle. It wasn't the rich, earthy aroma of smouldering amber or the fresh lemongrass my mother left to soak on the windowsill. Instead, it was the pungent odour of decaying flesh mixed with a stench of sewage that no ventilation could mask.
Frowning, my hand trembling, I twisted the knob.
The sight unfolded like a nightmare. A cold shiver shot up my spine like a live wire. How is this possible? Who did this? The questions swirled in my mind, a violent whirlpool drowning out all reason. I stood there, stuttering at the empty air, left speechless by the atrocity. But in the maze of dubiousness only one path lit up .To find whoever was responsible