Woman’s Intuition

I’ve always loved the smell of smoke, that is, the smoke from the campfire while sitting under a velvet blanket of stars; the sharp, sweet scent that tickles the nose and is filled with the freshness of nature.

But that love has been shot down and trampled. After this, I could never truly enjoy a campfire again without the vision of this scene in my head.

That once pleasurable scent has been turned rancid and rank, choking me as I felt my own bile rise up in my throat. Holding back a gag and placing a hand over my nose and mouth, a lot of good that would do me though, the smell would be forever imprinted on my brain, never to be forgotten.

I took a step closer and the smell of burnt flesh and singed hair grew. Bodies charcoaled beyond recognition. In this mess there was no gender to separate and distinguished that job was for the coroner to figure out.

The ground, or rather, the floor of the house crunched beneath my booted feet, ground that gave off vapors of smoke with every step, carrying the smell of death and all the ‘niceties’ that came with it. Another step forward and a snap, ‘Oh God, I beg you, please let that not be some- No! Don’t think! Just keep moving.’

Kneeling down, I reached out a gloved hand to-

“An accelerant was used,” A voice said behind me.

I cursed at myself for jumping and not noticing his approach. Hell, how could any one miss someone coming up behind them with this to walk on? Even if the person were light on their feet and treading carefully they still would sound like they were tromping through the woods at the end of fall.

“No kiddin’,” I replied, building up my composure.

“What do you think?”

I took a deep breath. Bad idea. The world started to spin and I covered my mouth again, trying to take shallow breaths though my makeshift mask. “Murder,” I finally answered.

“Not just arson?”

“No, it doesn’t feel like… It just doesn’t feel like arson and the perpetrator just happened to come across this house when it was obvious there was a large group of people inside. Plus, it’s odd that everyone is grouped in this one room, you would think someone would’ve tried to get out.” I turned to face him. “Chief, it looks like revenge.”

Chief sighed, looking completely unruffled by the scene and the smell. “You realize that this just increased the workload.”

“I know the department is short-handed, Chief, but I just know that this is a murder scene.” The annoyance was barely held from my voice. ‘How can he stand there, unfazed by the smell! And who cares if the department has lost people and funds, there’s a murderer out there!’

“A woman’s intuition,” Chief remarked.

“Don’t give me that crap,” A headache was forming. I doubted I wouldn’t be able to smell anything else for the rest of the week.

“You’re looking pale.”

Make that a month.

“Oy! Chief! We found something!” An officer called, standing in what used to be the kitchen.

I watched Chief move away but I remained where I was, kneeling next to the bodies. Something still felt off. I don’t care what Chief says about my intuition, something felt extremely off.

Something… but what?

Panic shot through my body and I sprinted towards Chief and the gathering officers, a yell forming on my lips.

Smoke would be the last thing we would smell. Smoke and the burning of our own flesh.

A/N: "Wrote this short story for school. We had to pick one of the senses and something that would go along with that sense. I chose the smell of smoke and I decided to twist it into this. This was definitely influenced by Laurell K. Hamilton (read her books-Anita Blake!). What else is there to say? Well, tell me what you think!"

Death