Each Time It Comes

The temperature in the room changed and Rupert’s breath came in frantic little gasps as he smelled the hot, sickly sweet fragrant cloud of burning sulfur that singed the edges of his nostrils. Hackles raised as long bronze fingers spidered on his shoulders and a mouth crowded with sharp teeth kissed his neck.

Mother was home.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s