Sunday, August 5, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday – The Prophet and the Crown 1: The Fallen (WIP)

          This place, even with its oppressive humid heat, seemed cold.  The sunlight, beating down to bring a sheen of sweat to his body, was dark.  And he was alone.  Horribly, brutally alone, as if everything he’d ever loved had abandoned him.
The sense of abandonment was so profound, he opened his mouth and screamed, a long drawn-out claxon of horror.
It hurt his throat.  

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