Thursday, June 30, 2016

100 Words a Day 878

The cultist shoved past Daisy as he scrambled for the exit. She fell hard against the stony alter, cracking her head against the golden idol before coming to a rest on the bizarre mosaic floor. It wasn’t until the chamber had emptied of the fanatics before I noticed that Daisy wasn’t moving. There was a trickle of blood running from the back of her head along a groove in the mosaic. As I watched, it began to rush towards a small, black stone at the center of the design. The stone began to glow green when the blood touched it.

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