Liquid runs down his
throat and enters the
domain of his belly like a
bubbly, venomous title
wave.
The sickness follows:
weakening the soul and
punishing the mentality
of his saneness.
Valor is out of sight,
no hero can step forth to save him now.
All feeling and perception has
been stolen by the toxic
demon.
A crimson river trickles out of
the corner of his mouth,
carelessly and freely,
reddening his white shirt.
He reaches an unsteady hand toward his frightened face,
observing the warm liquid between two thin fingers.
I have met my end, he thought.
Unsteady, weak legs give way and
he plummets to the cold, dark stone floor.
Poison seized another victim.