Monday, August 3, 2015

100 Words a Day 673

He was heedless of the cuts on his palms as he scrambled through the darkness, trying to get away from whatever had tackled him.

Why the hell did I think taking a glass lamp was a good idea? He thought.

He felt something clamp down on his foot and pain shot through his leg. Apparently whatever attacked him had a mouth.

He cried out and tried to turn over while reaching for a dagger he kept in a thigh sheathe.

The beast was shaking his leg, making it difficult to grab the knife and the pain was making hazy.

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