Her claws scratched across and through his face, rending his diseased, decaying flesh and tearing off a strip which she threw over her shoulder for her raven familiar to feast upon before fouling itself as it died.
Tag: tearing
Back to life
He was absolutely tearing up the place with his dance moves. Oh, man – these squares had never seen moves like this. They couldn’t keep up. They’d cleared the dancefloor for him. He had all the space he wanted. He was strutting like a peacock. He was grooving like some kind of groovy dance god. He w- FLURP! Oh, no. There was no dancefloor. There was only his bedroom, if you could call a gap between two big bins with a cardboard roof a bedroom. He wasn’t strutting now. In fact, his sole concern now was to get up without smearing the turd into his clothes and sleeping bag worse than it already was.