Thursday, May 23, 2013

100 Words a Day 278

The little bastard was slippery. He bobbed and weaved away from every punch.

Garth smiled as he fired off a hard right that he was sure was going to connect.

Suddenly, he found his fist veering away from the small man, who guided it with his hands. Garth’s moment of confusion was replaced with a flash of pain shooting up from his foot.

Then time seemed to slow down. He felt himself sailing into the air and looking up at the ceiling. A moment later, he was falling. Just before he hit the ground, time sped up, and it hurt.

No comments:

Post a Comment