fibrous claws

His sister’s words echoed like the cathedral bells on a holy day, drowning out all semblance of reason with the tolling of a life’s passing. Peter bit his fingernails, spitting out each torn shred as his fibrous claws tore under his ferocious despair.

Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov

Advertisements

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, quotes, reading, short stories, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s