The Red Bucket

A woman is walking down the beach. She sees a little red children's bucket sitting in the sand. Concerned that it will wash out to sea, she flips it over. She'll never forget what she finds...

    I was walking along the beach on a cool October evening.  The sun was setting across the water, tinting the sky orange, mirrored on the water’s near smooth surface.  The water, warmer in late October than the air, splashed up my legs, nearly getting my shorts wet.  I moved up so that I was further inland and farther away from the approaching surf.  Up ahead, I saw a bucket that some hapless child has left sitting upside down among the sands.  Not wanting to have it drift out to sea, I walked over, trudging through the drier and more difficult to traverse sand, placing my feet awkwardly as I made my way over to the bright red bit of plastic.  It was late and the sand was no longer hot to my feet, which I was grateful for as I make my way, sandals in one hand, sunglasses in another.

    Without unoccupied hands for the task, I used my toes to nudge the bucket over, my mind pulling up images of crabs snapping at fingers and toes.  Children can collect the damnedest things, after all.  I once followed a trail of blood through the woods to find a deer skeleton when I was less than ten.  It is still one of my fondest memories of childhood.  It had been Friday the thirteenth, helping to cement the memory, even into adulthood.  The bucket tipped over, but I could tell that it wasn’t empty.  It had weight to it.  I could see sand and something else, but the failing light made me squint to see more.  I knelt down, placing my sandals on the sand to my right and my sunglasses on my forehead.  “What the?” I said under my breath as I looked at the contents more closely.  Was that a...?

    I tipped the bucket over gently, sliding the contently slowly out onto the sand.  I jumped back, sucking in a breath as I went and tried to hold down the gag reflex.  I could feel my lungs spasming, but didn’t realize that I had been screaming until people came running moments later.  I held down another round of gagging, trying to keep the screams and whimpers to a minimum.  An awkward teen boy in a uniform advertising a local hotel came up to me and held my shoulder.  “Are you alright, ma’am?”

   No more than a barely audible “uh” escaped my voice but I managed to point.  After that, I heard the boy retching off to the side.  Finally, I was able to keep my breathing under control, almost under control, and asked, “Does someone have a cell phone?”

    A dazed young woman, a lookiloo, reached into the pocket of her capris and held out a phone.  She tried to look over the boy to see what had us so upset but I said, “I wouldn’t suggest it.”  She looked at me with a wide eyed look on her face, but kept far enough away that she didn’t actually see what we had seen.  “Thanks.”  I dialed 911.

    “911, emergency.  How may I help you?” a female voice chimed on the other end.

    “I,” I cleared my throat and started again, my eyes flitting momentarily to the object in question, “I found a body part.”  I looked once more.  I was proud of myself.  There wasn’t even a gag reflex this time as I glanced quickly at the decomposing head, “A head.  Somebody is dead.”  The cell phone fell into my lap almost without my knowledge as my eyes were drawn once more to the severed head, sawed off roughly above the shoulders.  The eyes were gone, I presumed from scavengers, maybe even the crabs I’d been imagining earlier.  They would probably be a tasty treat.  God, I’m morbid.  The lips were dried and cracked and slightly blue, just barely open.  His skin had long since lost all of its appropriate color from life and looked somewhat stretched over his skull, like someone with a bad allergic reaction.  I could see maggots infesting every available orifice, including where he had been decapitated.  I’d always been grossed out by maggots.  Dead bodies, even body parts, I could handle.  Even thought that working in a morgue would be cool for a spell.  But maggots? I shuddered.  His hair was cut short, I assumed it was a he, the head just seemed like it should belong to a he, and was matted with blood.  I could see the edge of what I assumed was a fatal blow to the head from where I sat, but I dared not disturb the crime scene any further than I already had.

I picked up the phone again, my hand shaking as I raised the device once more to my ear.  “I assume you want my location.  I’m on the beach...”

Reviews

[TLK]

A nice little Halloween treat. You certainly have a knack for describing decomposing heads. I like how the reaction to the discovery is quite measured (the deer encounter as a child probably helped) and without histrionics. The lack of eyes is explained well, in a way that seems natural. It's the kind of slightly tacky thought process I can imagine someone having as they try to deal with such morbid events.

[The Eternal Scribe]

Thanks, I seriously did once consider becoming a Medical Examiner. I was going to say more but it was sort of digging a deeper whole for myself. Suffice it to say, I could go on for days on the stages of decomposition, what parts of the body scavengers like best, degrees of lividity, and on and on. But I'll leave with a thank you and a "Clearly there is something wrong with this woman's head." Especially seeing as this was originally a writing prompt that started: "You're walking along the beach. You come across a child's sand bucket turned upside down. You shift it with a toe, and it falls over to reveal...."