It was day 736. The only sanity he had left hung by a thread, counting the days. Stripped of his clothes and dignity, the sun beat down upon him here as the stratus dipped lazily around the peaks. All night, he felt able to touch the stars, but in day he suffered from the heat. He imagined he was already roasted to the core, his innards a baked delicacy for the single vulture that returned each day, hoping to find him maimed, so she might feast upon him to the bone.
It was day 736, and he still had hope.
Story Notes:
B2MeM Challenge:
B7
four words: core, vulture, stratus, maim
B15
hot
B7
four words: core, vulture, stratus, maim
B15
hot