Beginnings of a story Drabble thingy
The kind of air that doesn't move or change. The darkness surrounding the shadowy figure as it drew into the dirt seemed to try to engulf it's torch. The figure turned and gestured into the darkness as if beckoning. At that moment a man about the age of 40 walked into the light standing in the center of the symbol drawn in the dirt. His eyes were dull and lifeless with their brown hue the only evidence left to betray the man's state of existence. He held up a small dagger. It was pretty with gems on the handle and a strange glow about it. The man began to mouth words as a voice called out in a strange tongue. As the incantation reached its peak the man plunged the dagger into his own throat spilling his blood. As the red goo hit the symbol it started to illuminate and itself bleed across the floor. Decaying and boney hands burst out of the earth and as the room filled with moans the shadowy figure shifted its body all that could be seen thanks to the glow of the magic was a pair of smiling rust colored eyes.