Friday, July 8, 2016

100 Words a Day 882


The air was heavy and difficult to breathe. Bushwhacking in the humidity had left everyone sweaty as though they had emerged from the river that meandered along somewhere to their left, hidden by the thick forest. The spikey foliage had torn their clothing and open angry red lines on their skin. Insects buzzed incessantly, reminding them of the dangers they faced, not only from poisonous bites but also from a fly unique to the area that laid its eggs in the open wounds of larger animals. Once the eggs hatched, the larva began eating their way out of their host.

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