Thursday, October 15, 2015

100 Words a Day 723

I peeked over the edge of the cliff, spying the hermit below. He was making strange adulations in front of a fire he had built. I could see by the flickering light that he wore only a loincloth and his body was covered in bizarre symbols, drawn with what ink or ash I know not. His beard was long and spindly, like his limbs. He contorted himself in a strange fashion, and began to take deep breaths that made him sound like ragged bellows. The hermit moved through a number of strange positions before ending prostrate before the dying fire.

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