Die Writing

Can’t kill me

Posted in Guns of St. Michael by erdaron on April 7, 2011

The Young Man stood, swaying. His right eye was swollen shot. The busted lips were caked with blood. Crushed bone and dirt ground on his teeth. He tried to focus on the demon in front of him. It wasn’t easy. He tried to spit, but couldn’t; he merely drooled bloody spittle on his chin.

“I was thinking…” The voice was hoarse. “During this little friendly exchange…” He grinned, baring his teeth in a painful grimace, had to pause to catch some breath. “Rage all you want, but you’re too much of a pussy to actually kill me.”

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