Friday, February 28, 2014

100 Words a Day 560 La Pintura Negra 3/15

The old man and the friar shuffled through the night. They were miles from town or village and without bedrolls, so they trudged on. The old man used his cane to steady his steps, and the friar used the old man.

“We must surely find the town soon,” the friar said, leaning close to the old man’s ear.

The old man said nothing. He continued walking, feeling the stones of the road beneath his cane.

The friar had finally had enough of the silence. A frustrated gurgle issued from his throat and he began tearing at the old man’s beard.

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