Tuesday, July 18, 2017

100 Words a Day 1084

Morg spent several days convalescing after the operation. Lying in a soft bed in the room next to Arghul’s laboratory, he could feel his flesh mend and the organ slowly engorge with blood. Once saturated, the muscular blob dumped its invigorating chemicals into Morg’s waiting blood, then squeezed the crimson fluid back into his veins. The first change he noticed was the taste of the broth Arghul brought him. Right after the operation, he’d felt it bland. After a few days though, he began to pick out subtle flavors he hadn’t noticed before, herbs that grew in Arghul’s great garden.

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