Wednesday, May 05, 2010
There was little that could surprise a demon, but when Jasfoup came across a zombie on the path by the river he paused. Somehow it had caught a fish and had torn it open in order to consume the innards. Loops of entrails hung from its fingers as it slurped at the raw flesh. The fish, still alive in the recesses of its soon-to-be-consumed brain, flapped its tail in a futile attempt to escape. What astounded was that upon finishing, the zombie washed its hands in the river, took out a silk handkerchief and dabbed the corners of its mouth.