Moist…

I belong to a local writers group that’s full of some really awesome people.  The word “moist” has become this running joke with us, so this morning on our Facebook page, one of our people posted something he’d written that used the word moist.  He called it his moist sentence for the day.  Then another girl from the group, not to be outdone, posted something of her own using the word moist.

So…not to be outdone by either of them, I came up with this little gem…

“The worms crawled over his face, leaving several moist trails in their stead that his mind repeatedly traced over and over, seeing them as though they were streaks of light on a mask that hovered in the air before him. It was bad enough being bound and buried alive with nothing but a simple breathing tube to sustain him, but now he had far more to worry about, as those things that lived below the ground…beneath our very feet began to encroach upon his person. Would someone find him before they began to devour him as though he were nothing more than a heap of rotting compost? That was the question that plagued him as he suddenly felt something wiggling around his ear, as though it were desperately searching for a way inside.”