If you are reading my story calmly or with some curiosity to discover how and whom I murdered, I’ll bet, you are thinking that life will go on eternally. It will indeed, but alas, we won’t.
The rolling hills in northwest Briton were moist and mossy in the small hours of the morning. A thin fog pervasive in the area competed with a low-hanging steamy cloud covering the ground, the heat from registered from the earth conflicting with the cool spring air.
Any half-decent expert will tell you that there are numerous things you should never say to a gurzzle. They are unusually touchy animals and tend to respond to any form of offense—intended or otherwise—with quick, decisive and invariably violent action.
I can feel their warmth. The sweat laden bodies in contortion with each other feeling the natural wonders of their youth burdened by only the mindset that at some hour he or she must return to society discarded, but fresh, transcended, but devastated because perfection is violent.
“Something weird happened,” Jay said. He hurried past Sarah, locked the deadbolt, and then put the chain back on. He looked out the peephole for a minute, tested the door handle to make sure it was locked, and then finally turned to face her.