The Golden Ritual
You are bleeding. Not much. Just a trickle. Red on the grey stone. You wipe it with your sleeve. The cloth is soaked. You keep going. The thing in front of you is not a man. It is a shape made of smoke and teeth. It screeches. You punch it. Your fist connects. There is no bone. There is only cold air. You punch it again. It dissolves. You feel the impact in your shoulder. It hurts. Good. Pain...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen