Writer's Block: Over-the-Top Metaphors

[lykanthrope]

A thousand and two suns scorched his throat as he downed the last bit of the dark bitter molasses that Sue called 'coffee'.  He rubbed the side of his face against the grain where he had not shaved in ages, his scruff left his hand a brightening crimson and raw.  In two-ninths of a second, he could hear the vibrations that would become footsteps as

Comments

[cerrenes]

that was great :)