
I jerk my elbow upwards. His face lands on the bone. Uncontrollable pain lances up my humerus into my neck. I grit my teeth to stop from screaming. The minion crumples to the ground, clutching his nose, a high-pitch wail emits between his tiny fangs.
One down, only about sixty more to go.
Maybe I can win this, maybe I can…. No.!The thing nightmares are made of, stops wriggling. Cartilage, cheek bone, and flesh reassembles, twisting to its original position.
The real nightmare begins.
They’re not killable? They can repair themselves?
- Summer
Published on December 11, 2014 01:22