Black Magic (One Shot Kit) WAV

The black liquor jug, in which the eye of flame had been dipped a moment earlier, had been released. I was too weak to struggle, and still too numb from the blow on my head. He was twisting my wrists, wresting my hands from him, and I could only meet his wild eyes with a stupid glare. I was conscious of nothing but the ache of my bruised ribs, and of the sharp little fingernails that were tearing my flesh. The sickening terror grew in me, and it was full of that unreasonable regret for the life that could be stolen by a blind chance, a drunkard’s whim. Perhaps Life had made me queerly dangerous and villanous by the very nature of my brain.

But the man had seized the jug by the neck and was dashing it on the ground, and as he did so the blood bubbled up from the torn scalp and ran down in rivulets on his thick black hair and the scarlet scarf from his cheeks. I found it impossible to tear my eyes away from his, and my clumsy hands still clutched at the convulsing throat. I tried to speak to persuade him not to destroy my only chance of life, and to mutter incoherent apologies, but he was a strong man, and I knew from the strength of the beating and the bruises that he had killed before. Also, as he picked up the smoking glassy fragments of the broken jug, the red pulsating flame-eyes, legs squatting in emaciated flesh.

he looked at me with grim irony, and my eyes stared back at me from the black smoking muck. The fumes had paralysed me to helplessness, and it was with a sense of surprise that I found myself sitting up. He rose, and plucked up the revolvers. He had in that instant become insane, and now he half-shouted, “You killed him! You killed Egor! So you must die!” d2c66b5586