THORNS OF CRIMSON DEATH.

The air wasn’t fresh. It was still coated with the gore of rotting animals, long picked clean for last evening’s supper. But it was new – new air not mixed with the rot of the freezer he’d been trapped in. Wyatt greedily sucked down air, coughing with a hack not that he could taste just how decayed it all was.  “Please…” He’s managed, wide blue eyes almost illuminating in contrast to he almost black blood coating his face. 

prayers for .. SALLY !

his   lips   twitch,   fingers   curling   into   a   fist   and   then   undoing   the   action.   now   was   not   the   time   to   make   a   M   E   S   S.   miles   brushes   past   her   dismissively,   setting   to   work   on   attempting   to   salvage   the   plot   of   flowers.   “   do   you   know   why   i   make   sure   everything   stays   in   tip   top   shape   ?   ”   he   asks   in   the   same   monotone   voice.