* IT SQUIRMS ON THE DIRT. it is an abominable&.volatile thing , how it squirms like a worm in your shadow (&.YOU WONDER IF THIS IS HOW YOU LOOK BENEATH THE HOLY FATHER) , basking in the darkness cast from you , your nose wrinkles in disgust at the thing . byproduct of the CULT that tainted the town , the memory of these loathsome things writhing around sticks fondly with you .&. when heel of boot grinds down upon the WRETCHED creature , a surfeit of sticky redmixes with the soil , there is a certain foul odor that wafts from the leech – like carcass . your skin crawls , yet your composure &. facade remain apathetic.❛❛… IT’S GONNA COME BACK . they always fuckin’ did . not what i’m here for , though .❜❜/ OPEN STARTER !
———A careful exhale of smoke, eyes of emerald glass angled underneath his feet. It’s not much of a kill on his part; he’d merely missed the cigarette thrown beside the damn thing.
❝ May I at least ask you what the fuck is that dripping off my boot? ❞ Travelers rarely found themselves by these parts. He’d gone from shithole to shithole over the years, searching on mere rumor of the various occult spots in the US. Most led to tourist traps in decaying rural towns, some amounting to a childish cult of robed amateurs. There were few instances had drawn his attention like this.
parker's blogs 