Quoted By:
-Only for you to then open your eyes, with half of your face embedded in sand. You cough, feeling dry, sulfuric air enter you lungs and mummify your lips. Shakily you lift yourself off the sand, where your body has made a nice little indent, dried blood surrounds you. The implication doesn’t sit well with you. Looking around your eyes adjust to the brightness. Above your head the sky has all the hue’s and color of bile. Its unnatural coloration naturally puts you on edge. All around you is…well, a dessert, or at least part of one, save for a shanty town but a few paces in front of you. Walking forward, you catch something, in the glass of a shop window whose name has faded from the pane, is an ugly mug. Your ugly mug. You recoil and fall on your posterior kicking up a small dust cloud as it stares back at you. With a swallow you get up, and remember, you remember something, a sound. The last sound you heard.
The last thing you heard…the only thing in that moment your now dullard mind can remember. What was it?
>The straining of a rope. (Hang man. Hang other men.)
>Yell of a man. (Blades. A knife is drawn to red.)
>Growl of a beast.(Mauled. Can control others marrow.)
>Piercing discharge of a gun. (Riddled. Six shooter, black bullets.)
>Words of family. (Black heart. Can heal self, harm others.)
