Hello, Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday followers. Gonna dive right back into Famine for this week's post. Last week's scene elicited a lot of interest in how Bartholomew would punish the nutjob who attacked Kelly at the brothel. Not giving things away with this one, but thought you'd like a little taste of what's in store. That guy pissed off the wrong Apocalyptic.
“Do you feel that fear?” Once again the aesir pulled the madman’s head back. “That’s your soul’s terror.” He shoved a pair of dirty socks into the bastard’s gaping mouth. “It knows what I am and what is coming.”
Bartholomew yanked the knives from from the madman’s palms, leaving holes where the blades had impaled the floor. Then he bound the man’s wrists behind his back and wrapped him like a cigar in the bloody blanket from Kelly’s bed.
He dragged the attacker to the top of the wooden stairs and pushed, lighting a cigarette as the roll bumped and tumbled down to the first floor.
That's gotta hurt.