Monday, October 14, 2013
100 Words a Day 406
He watched the small hut burn from atop the rocky ledge. The mob of villagers had set it alight when they saw the contents, weird and otherworldly, while beating the hermit. The myriad of strange things gave the smoke vivid colors and bizarre smells, driving the mob back. The old man’s body was inside, his misshapen corpse being consumed by the blaze. The wind shifted, moving the billowing pillar and sending the villagers scurrying away. A few got caught in the sparking blue smoke. They fell to the ground writhing. Their skin began to pulse and wiggle, slowly changing color.