by Big Brother » Fri Oct 05, 2018 1:12 am
the shadow creeps forward, from shadow to shadow, silent footsteps, drawn blade, lifts the blade higher to strike the man boasting naval attire
ordering a pint, when the blade just barely catches the sunlight from the open window, it was as if time had frozen. The figure screeches as if it were a dying animal, and swings the blade down...
Last edited by
Big Brother on Fri Oct 05, 2018 1:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
The dead may not tell tales, but they certainly have one.
Chairman of The Vault