This is what you experience when your head comes into contact with asphalt at around one metre per second or more (tested upto around 10m/s). On the surface it sounds like someone knocking together a pair of claves, but from the inside it sounds like someone dropping half a cow onto an upturned, fibre glass boat. This is usally almost instantly followed by the taste of blood and a smell like someone turning off a TV.

Generally unpleasant.

The essential missing ingredient from above descriptions is the wet undertone of the thud. The squishing noise that accompanies impact is what makes this a sickening thud and fuels the nausea that follows.

For some reason I have this term mentally hard-linked to H.P. Lovecraft maybe because he created so many situations involving violence and ichor.

short gory fiction

Her hands were shaking. Slowly, she stepped backwards and away from the open cupboard. Her eyes didn't want to focus, her head and her feet felt amazingly light. The small of her back thumped against the kitchen sink. In front of her, the open cupboard revealed a dimly lit tunnel, blocked by a severed human head.

She was completely disgusted, and she didn't know what to do. If she closed the cupboard door, the tunnel might disappear, and she would never know where it might go. The thought of moving that head, however, repulsed her. It wouldn't have been so bad if it were completely bloody, or even if it were mostly clean. It was laying on its side, staring up at her from the flower lined shelf. It had blood leaking slowly out of its mouth and nose, and the point of severance was a mangled mess of bone, gore, and blood. The forehead had a few glossy black clumps of hair stuck to it, but the rest of the face was disturbingly clean.

Pale and yellowy under the fluorescent light of the kitchen, muddy brown eyes leered at her knees. Keeping her eyes locked on the contents of the cupboard, she began to move left. Her right hand hung slack at her side, while her left fumbled wildly, feeling for the broom. Once she had it in her hand, she slid slowly back toward the cupboard. Nothing had changed. The blood on the head hadn't moved, the puddle of claret hadn't grown, and the tunnel hadn't gotten any brighter. She turned the broom upside down and watched one manicured hand flip the dustpan off of the brush end. No longer quivering, she moved closer to the open cupboard. The water on the stove was boiling, but her ears heard nothing. Stealthily, she moved closer to the head and the tunnel behind it.

The broom was an olive green rapier, and she stabbed into the cupboard directly at the roman nose of the head. The head met with considerable resistance, and it simply rocked to face skyward, then thud back down onto it's right cheek. The nose was now bloodier, and she was horrified at what she'd done. The broom now had blood on the end of it, and a bit of some clotted substance that she couldn't identify. She dropped the end of it onto the contact paper of the cupboard and sat down on the tile of the kitchen floor. The coolness of the floor brought some sensation back to her shocked body. Steam poured up from the gas range, four quarts of water bubbled merrily and left sizzling droplets on the enamel.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and began to rock back and forth, staring at the head. The tunnel was still behind it, frustrating her beyond comprehension. If she couldn't get the head out of the way, she would never get down there, she just knew it. Her rocking quickened, her tailbone punished by the cracks in the ceramic tile. Her eyes never left the eyes of the head, glazed over and thick with death. Before she knew it, her foot shot out and slammed the cupboard door closed. She gasped and froze. Her right foot was numb, still poised to kick. As it lowered, she used it to shove herself away from the door. She sat, staring at the door, for what seemed like forever.

When she finally got up, the broom was already back in the corner, no trace of blood or gore betrayed its position. She put her hands to her temples and turned around. The water was still boiling. White mineral deposits made rings around the inside of the pan, showing her that about half of the water had evaporated away. She turned off the gas and left the kitchen.

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