A dim morning descends upon a lifeless town blanketed in wintry chill and depression. A lone, withered car sputters along the main road, its windows obscured by layers of frost. A puff of dirty smog erupts from the aged tailpipe, and a dead breeze limply swirls the exhaust through the air. An emaciated old man sits hunched over the steering wheel, his gaunt hands extending from the sleeves of a frayed bomber jacket. Bags of melted flesh eternally swell out from below his hazy, sunken eyes. One ear is tattered, like a book left out for the dog to enjoy. The other does not exist. His head is completely bald underneath a floppy hat that should have retired half a century ago. His lips are cracked, coated in caked blood.
Beneath his seat, a glittering metal blade lies in wait….
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1 comment:
This is so incredibly visual, first of all. All the words you use perfectly fit the mood. The first sentence might be a bit dramatic, but it really creates the scene.
And nice last line.
And...good job tonight!
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