onsdag den 13. april 2011

Coming Home, pt. 11

    The very last thing he remembered was the blur of distorted air, the bullet growing in his vision until it was all he could see. He remembered jerking his head to the left and the sudden, intense pain as the bullet grazed his skull. Then darkness.

    He stopped walking. He'd lost count of how many steps he'd taken. He'd thought of his past many times during the years away from home, but the almost tangible darkness in the depths of this strange place made the memories seem all the more vivid. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the rough, hairless scar that ran from his temple to behind his ear.

Word of the day: "Agathokakological"; (noun) composed of both good and evil.

Ingen kommentarer: