The scene in front of my eyes was quite unlike any I had ever seen or could have prepared for. The table was still laid out for a feast, but everything was now covered in blood. I was not squeamish in the slightest, but the sight of it made me quite sick.
He was hurtling through the air towards the ground floor far below him.
He was hurtling through the air towards the ground floor far below him.
It approached fast. The polished stone floor gleamed below him as he fell. Lights on the second and first floors were a blur as he fell past them. He was aware of screams and grunts. His mouth was open, but he wasn’t sure if any sound came out.
He finds himself making his way to the bar in a dizzy haze of reds, blacks and blues.
He finds himself making his way to the bar in a dizzy haze of reds, blacks and blues. The blood is thumping in his veins, and there are waves of pleasure travelling all across his skin and nervous system. His hands are shaking up to the point that he thinks he is going to break his pint glass when he grabs it to calm his nerves. It's no use; his system is out of whack and his body out of his control. He has never felt like that after a kiss, and particularly not after a mere peck on the lips. This is serious. All that pain of moments earlier is mixed in with the enjoyable shivers, like bloodthirsty sharks in his beautiful ocean, and he is drowning, easy prey to the beasts while his attention is drawn away by his selfish desires.