Thursday, November 15, 2018

100 Words a Day 1245


Morg turned as the door opened. He didn’t recognize the physical shape of the being standing in the frame, but he knew him nonetheless. His eyes widened. He shot to his feet.

“You!” he cried and balled both hands into fists.

“I was worried you wouldn’t recognize me,” the man replied, stepping into the room.

Most of the skin on his face had been replaced with blue scales. His lips were black, framing a mouth full of white, pointy teeth. His wings were gone, replaced by a second set of arms that looked like they’d once belonged to a gorilla.

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