- I gasped for air as he spoke, his knowledge Innocuously flooded the banks of my mind as I struggled for more but tried not to drown in the sea of his wisdom, his passion was tidal, his voice ferocious. I grasped for my knife and stuggled for my sanity in the breaches of my mind and thrust for an escape from this torment, his body was the escape, my knife was the medium. his body tore like bread and his blood gushed like wine across the marble floor. the sea was calm, my passion subsided and his deceased.
- by Masacre Mouse |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 05/09/2009 |
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Comments (2 Comments)
- KikuMizu - 05/21/2009
- I like it as well. Very grim and dim and descriptive. I wonder, can you develope this into something more?
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- HORRY SHIET - 05/13/2009
- I liked it, a lot, I'd just recommend that you not use 'his body' twice in one sentence. Something like '...his body was the escape, my knife was the medium, he tore like bread and...' other than that, yeah cool. I like to see people in this place be a little more descriptive and creative.
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