This week I present another little gem created from a writing exercise that waits for it’s own full story. Short and sweet.
**Warning: Not sexy, unless you’re into that kinda kink. **
Writing prompt was: There’s nothing like the smell of…
There’s nothing like the smell of blood and decay as I wade through the filth that is my life. The giant steps I take, stepping over the bodies and decapitated heads, gives me an adrenaline rush. The coppery twang and the odor of rotting meat reaches my nose. It smells like victory.
I did this. Me. With my own two hands, I created this carnage. A grim smile touches my lips. I inhale deeply filling my lungs with the stench and the power.
Today I was a god, taking the lives of those less deserving of life. By facing me they forfeit their right to breathe. Their right to walk this world.
I am the reaper of their souls.
Why, you ask?
Because I can.
I was having a dark day. It just came spilling out. I have no idea what the story is behind that snippet, but I know some people who would sell their souls to find out.