Okay, here are today’s six sentences for Six Sentence Sunday.
They didn’t call them rock-men for nothing. Enraged, he crushed me to his chest in a cold embrace. This close, he smelled like a combination of rancid, wet mud, mouldy earth, and decaying plant matter. Repulsed, I stopped breathing before the stench could knock me out.
I glimpsed rotting leaves tangled up in his concrete coloured hair, ratty and torn pants, and a checked jacket that would make a lumberjack proud. And a gleaming axe hanging from a tooled leather belt.
Because I’m doing NaNo this month, chances are fairly high that I won’t be able to read many of the other entries, so I apologize in advance for that. Once again, thanks for stopping by and taking the time to comment.