How Could 1 Body Decompose at 3 Different Rates? – By Sue Coletta

Writer's Treasure Chest

Crime writer Sue Coletta provides us with a fascinating forensic case which I read with great interest. To my surprise the comments to the post are about as informative as the post and I couldn’t resist sharing it with other writers!

In late November/early December, something on a Discovery ID show blew my mind. On the dramatization of this real case, the detectives investigated a dead body found in the Oregon forest. Nothing new there, right? Here’s the kicker … The victim was decomposing at three alarmingly different rates. The corpse was not dismembered, either. One intact body, from head to foot, but with three different decomposition processes taking place at the same time.

The legs looked fresh. No change in appearance, very little, if any, discoloration. The torso had decomposed enough to show most of the ribcage, with exposed, decaying organs. As if that wasn’t bizarre enough, only hair…

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Shaping the world

The Silent Eye

fox 001

Back in the earliest days when mankind had his beginnings, it was the land and our response to it that had shaped us. It has been suggested that it was the long grass that caused us first to stand on two legs… a need to spot potential predators at a distance. As animals our physical defences are minimal. It is our intellect, adaptability and ability to use what comes to hand to serve our needs that allowed us to thrive. It was the land, the environment and climate that offered the raw materials to the responsive hunter, moving with the game and the seasons and which later planted the first seeds of agriculture from which our modern societies have sprung.

We are not very old as a species. It is thought that the earliest homo sapiens dates back a mere 200,000 years. On a planet that is 4.6 billion years…

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It’s Release Day! End of Day by Mae Clair #SupernaturalSuspense #Mystery #Thriller

From the Pen of Mae Clair

Today is the book birthday for End of Day, book 2 of my Hode’s Hill trilogy.  If you enjoyed book 1, Cusp of Night, you’ll find this one in the same vein. Once again, I’m visiting the small Pennsylvania town of Hode’s Hill, but with a plot whose tentacles reach back to the town’s founding. As in Cusp of Night, I’ve spun two mysteries—one in the the past (taking place in the year 1799) and one in the present. You get two separate mysteries that tie together at the end.

Book cover for End of Day, mystery/suspense novel by Mae Clair shows old dilapidated church with bell tower and a cemetery in the background overgrown with weedsThe past is never truly buried…  

Generations of Jillian Cley’s family have been tasked with a strange duty—tending the burial plot of Gabriel Vane, whose body was the first to be interred in the Hode’s Hill cemetery. Jillian faithfully continues the long-standing tradition—until one October night, Vane’s body is stolen from its resting place. Is…

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Orphans of Summer

Sun in Gemini

Orphaned shoots of summer’s fullness

Sway high in January’s blue

Like gifted children graced with wisdom

Defying winter’s hidden fury

Escaping falsely changing hue

Against the black we could not see you

Yet, dancing in the violent storm

Your gentle tips flowed round the deluge

Untouched by night’s electric harm

A younger magic, bold and warm

But, come the day when icy winter

Bows to brightening of the morn

And deep in earth green thirst awakens

Then screaming “Life” the upstretched fingers

Become the first to catch the dawn

©Stephen Tanham

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Can one be too economical?

Tallis Steelyard

can one be too economical
It is a question I encourage my patrons to ask themselves. Oh I’m not promoting boundless extravagance. Obviously liberality is to be encouraged when it comes to paying poets but, for example, I wouldn’t push anybody into having the fountain in their garden run with wine. There are limits to good taste, and frankly the wine is never of the finest. Also who wants to imbibe wine that swirls around the comatose body of a guest or servant who has passed out through drink?
There are areas where one can sensibly economise. If you do insist of having free drink all round the house and garden, at least have somebody on the gates! Yes I know that the local children will be able to sneak through the fences carrying cans and jars but still, having the gates watched does stop their parents from entering bringing empty barrels on a dog…

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The End of the Gods

This, That, and The Other

af05c2ad-3af7-4402-8d53-75591e6f3a1bThere was a time, many, many years ago, when the inhabitants of the land believed that there were a great number of gods and goddesses. These gods had control over many different aspects of life on earth. In many ways they were very human. They could be kind or mean, angry or pleasant, cruel or loving. They fell in love with each other, argued with each other, and even stole from each other.

Zeus was king of the gods. He had won the draw and became the supreme ruler of all of the lesser gods. He, himself, was the god of the sky, rain, and thunder and he lived high atop Mount Olympus. His weapon was a thunderbolt, which he hurled at those who displeased him. He ruled over both man and the gods. He was worshipped and idolized.

But time marches on and even the all powerful Zeus could not stop…

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Until The Light Gets In


By Carol J Forrester

She’d stuff the teapots
with carrier bags.
Oranges, blues, yellow, and pinks,
sunsets wrapped in ceramics,
perched on window sills.

Later they came to pieces
in her hands.
Plastic wilting like dried up roses,
shuddering beneath soft touches
and wasting away to dust.

We took turns choosing,
turning them over,
shaking the remains loose
from the curved bones
of these empty shells.

I keep carrier bags
in my teapot.
Oranges, blues, yellow, and pinks,
sunsets wrapped in ceramic,
perched on a window sill.

Carol J Forrester “plays around with words too much to say for sure which are her favorites.”

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No End… #Poetry



Image by


No End

Sleep my pretty one

I will be right beside you when you wake

To look into those beautiful blue eyes

That touch my heart with invisible hands

Planting seeds of love

The kind that needs no watering

And never dies

Otherworldly kind of love

Born from Eternity

That kind of love that lives forever

Returning to new young lovers

Waiting to meet

That first kiss, that first touch,

That speaks of something long remembered

There are no words to speak its meaning

A comfort, a warm blanket on a winter’s night

When lightning flashes and storms rage

Washing the earth, a life remembered

This is why time goes in circles

Love does the same

A new body, time and space

The same love returning

There is no end…


A Peek into the Past…


On the way to Portsmouth to do some shopping, I kept getting a glimpse of mysterious chalk cliffs hiding away among some trees, set well back from the road.

After noticing them that first time, every time I passed them afterwards only increased my desire to get closer and explore.

So one sunny morning, we spotted somewhere to park the car and jumped at the chance.


Once out of the car, we discovered a caravan park hiding behind the trees, completely hidden from the road. As we walked towards the cliff face, it was like being in another world. Strangely silent and peaceful, apart from some noisy crows arguing among themselves, high up in the tall trees.

The other worldliness increased as we walked slowly along the bottom of the chalk cliffs. They had been there all this time, soaring above us so high, brilliantly white in the sunlight. We wondered just how many other hidden treasures existed, all the places we hadn’t discovered yet.   Further along, we found what looked like boarded up old abandoned tunnel openings, and wondered who had made them and why.

We walked around for what seemed like a long time, reluctant to leave the magic behind and when we finally started to walk back to the car, we met one of the local residents. A lovely woman, who we discovered had lived there most of her life, and knew the tunnels had been used during the war as air raid shelters as she had been in there herself.


These lovely old chalk cliffs are located at the top of Portsdown Hill in Hampshire, overlooking Portsmouth, The Solent and Hayling Island. On a clear day, you can see the Isle of Wight in the distance.

The cliffs are a long chalk ridge, situated between the sea and the South Downs. They seem very high, probably about 60 feet, and there are many stories about the real and imagined tunnels. There are active military establishments in the area so anything is possible, I suppose.

Apparently, people used to shelter in the tunnels during some of the worst air raids of the second world war, although nobody would have had a good night’s sleep, owing to all the snoring and talking that went on. Not to mention the screaming children and the fact that they kept the lights on all night.

The tunnels were about the size of the old Nissan huts, with bunks down either side, two or three tiers high. People used to hate having to go there and they didn’t like the distinctive dank smell either.

However, it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Believe it or not, entertainment was laid on, from impromptu acting on a makeshift stage, to the regular visits from an accomplished pianist.


It was also reported that the chalk that was excavated to make these tunnels was used to build some of the local roads, the chalk dust casting a white glow over everything for quite a while afterwards.


It just goes to show, that you don’t really know what has been going on in the past, and you can find some interesting stories if you really look…