Monday, August 27, 2012

100 Words a Day 23


Growing up, he had always read about prophets having visions dance before their eyes. That was bullshit, his visions didn’t dance for shit. They hung in front of his eyes, foreboding, threatening, like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall on him at any moment. Those fakers he read about always talked in images and riddles. His visions were clear, and they were terrible, much more like that guy’s dream in the movie Black Robe, except they were always bad, never vague. At first he had tried to avoid them. That worked about as well as it did in literature. 

No comments:

Post a Comment