A flash of knotted beard and soiled gallibaya caught Gahiji’s attention. He tapped Kafele’s shoulder, jerking his head toward Abu-Zaabal’s storage area. The pair ghosted out of Clot Bey’s lesson to investigate any possible threat to their master, Khedive Muhammed Ali Pasha.
“…must flee!” floated from the morgue and into Ghaiji’s straining ears. The stench of decay and unwashed bodies assaulted him, but he fought through to reach the entrance.
Two filthy men stood over a fresh corpse, dirt from the grave still dribbling from its naked extremities. “Mamluk filth!” Gahiji growled. “You dare defile the bodies of the faithful?”
The dregs of his master’s enemies fell to their knees, trying to stave off death with denials, prayers, and foul breath.
Gahiji, white teeth bright against the tan of his skin, glanced at Kafele. “If Master Bey needs corpses, he shall have them, eh?”
Kafele matched his predatory grin as the ring of steel unsheathing echoed doom.
You have to incorporate this somehow into your story (you don’t have to use the word unless specifically directed). Word Count is 140-160 and the story is to posted in the comments. Head on over and join in the fun!
If you look in the bottom left-hand corner, you’ll see the tap on the shoulder that inspired my story this week 😉
Hope you enjoy.
Happy Reading and Writing!