Friday, February 3, 2017

100 Words a Day 1015

The stooped old man ceased whispering in the maddening tongue and blew into his gnarled hand, scattering some powder all about the grave. Silence reigned for several minutes. He stood as stone.

A scratching broke the graveyard hush, slowly growing louder and louder. The old man straightened, all evidence of infirmity disappearing.


A decayed hand burst forth from the ground, quickly followed by the rest of the corpse. Once extricated from the dirt, it reached its arms towards the old man, death in its witch-light eyes. But he thrust his palm forward and put his steely gaze upon the creature.

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