WesternWind 4 - Tears Of The Reaper - Plot & Excerpts
He shot up to a sitting position, his amber eyes wide, sweat glistening on his pale face, his black silk shirt plastered to his back. He was trembling so violently, panting so heavily, he thought his heart would burst from the strain. For a long moment he sat there staring unseeingly into the darkness before he found the strength to plow a shaky hand through his wet black hair. Swallowing convulsively, he tugged brutally at the thick strands in an effort to pull his mind from the horror that had invaded it. When the savage vision remained, he groaned with frustration. He knew there would be no more rest for him that night so he pushed to his feet and just stood there with his head bowed, his hands on his hips, his eyes closed, listening to his heart pounding brutally. It had been this way for three weeks now and every night’s rest had been disturbed by the same horrific dream. No matter how much rotgut he guzzled during the daylight hours, no matter how long he forced himself to stay awake each night, as soon as he went to sleep, the nightmare came galloping full speed out of the murky recesses of his memories and ran him to ground, pounding him into the depths of a despair so dark, he doubted he would ever be able to pull himself out.
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