Spring 1844 – The Seventh Homonculus

I smelled the carnage before I beheld it. Blood. Bile. Excrement. The barely digested final suppers of the young soldiers. I turned the corner and held up my lantern. It was difficult to account for all the men for not one limb was attached to a torso and no torso was in less than a half dozen pieces. I resorted to counting heads. Those had been neatly placed, one per step, on the descending stairs.