One of my friends was seeking gross stories, so I contributed the following personal experience:
When I was a kid, I used to work with horse wranglers in the high mountains, many, many miles from the nearest road. Wild thunderstorms would role through every day. One day was particularly insane; rain so hard the entire ground was a river, lightning striking all around. You couldn't ignore it. You couldn't hide. You just had to work through it. I turned a bend in the trail just in time to see a pack train with six horses hit by lightning. Eye popping, bone chilling, freighting site; the houses suddenly lurching and buckling, then falling helter, skelter to the ground, a strange hair raising, nostril flaring smell of flesh burning mixed with ozone charged, water saturated air. The wrangler lived, insulated by his saddle. The only solution for the horses was to blow them to bits with dynamite. Little and not so little bits of flesh everywhere. My horse bolted and almost threw me a few days later when we came upon a bloody hoof in a near by meadow.
When I was a kid, I used to work with horse wranglers in the high mountains, many, many miles from the nearest road. Wild thunderstorms would role through every day. One day was particularly insane; rain so hard the entire ground was a river, lightning striking all around. You couldn't ignore it. You couldn't hide. You just had to work through it. I turned a bend in the trail just in time to see a pack train with six horses hit by lightning. Eye popping, bone chilling, freighting site; the houses suddenly lurching and buckling, then falling helter, skelter to the ground, a strange hair raising, nostril flaring smell of flesh burning mixed with ozone charged, water saturated air. The wrangler lived, insulated by his saddle. The only solution for the horses was to blow them to bits with dynamite. Little and not so little bits of flesh everywhere. My horse bolted and almost threw me a few days later when we came upon a bloody hoof in a near by meadow.