7 May 2012
His face was numb, the taste of blood on his lips, his own. Soon again they would come, and again he would face them alone.
The sun starting to set, they would come again in the night, this he could not forget, as he watched the dwindling light.
His skin was cold, the night would bring a frost, and now he felt old, afraid, almost, lonely and lost.
Here they come, he thought, he could smell their scent on the breeze. A battle hard fought, to defeat a foe such as these.
A shadow, a sound, they where all around him now. His head started to pound, and a cold sweat broke on his brow.
His knuckles felt bruised, as he clenched his fists for the fight. Now his body felt used, as he mustered the last of his might.
They sprang from the night, their talons ripped at his flesh. Their footsteps where light, he could not judge how many where left.
They bit and they tore, their viscousness obscene, then just as before, Brandon woke from the dream.
ReOccuring Fightmare • Opuss № I