I would trade everything from that day to this and give it all back just to be rid of these hateful memories that were forced into my mind. The two people were named Saul and Sinthia. They were from a time long before I was born. But they were dressed unlike anyone I had ever seen in my history books. As odd as they appeared in their time and place the oddest thing was the expressions on their face. They shared the same, like a mirrored image of one. Even the features were identical. In fact if it weren’t for the scar and that Sinthia was the most drop dead gorgeous girl I had ever laid My eyes upon; giving no mistake to her gender I could have believed I was seeing double.
She wore a garland of ivy draped diagonally across her chest concealing only the left half of her bosom. And a pelt of human hair laced to her right thigh which extended to her ankle. And aside from that she had no other hair on the entire surface of her body. She wore a tattoo from the utmost tip of her left foot that spiraled up and around her leg and ending at her naval.
So detailed was this tattoo that to admire its complexity was necessary. From all the artist of the world none could have compared in talent to the one that made this. Exquisite! Horrifying! Unforgettable! Absolutely unforgettable. This was all she wore on her perfectly formed figure. Her skin almost shined as if the sun itself were trying to glow right through her body.
The only color that came from her natural form was in her eyes, if you can call it a color. Her eyes were black as night, black as pitch; black as the black heart of a witch! And the light that lit up her skin beamed threw the whites of her eyes like lightning from the sky. And even that had Phuong Chui with her being.
There was only one thing about her that seemed to be out of place, giving her the demonic look of a seductive deviless. She had an overbite that brought her upper cuspids of perfect form to a jutting rest onto the top of, the reddest, most voluptuous bottom lip I have ever seem. So red one could have thought it was painted with blood.
Saul stood statuesque like a Greek man god sculpted from a mold not even Michelangelo could have competed with. His form was flawless save the scar. A scar, from the looks of it, no man could have ever survived from. It was a gaping scar. One that obvious never received medical attention. In some places it was more than two fingers wide. And it spanned the entire length of his body.
It started at his right foot, on the outside and curved across his knee to its widest point on the inside of his thigh; then disappeared for a moment under a sun bleached upper portion of an adult sized human cranium. When it reappeared on the left side of his torso it was barely a pinky in width, and it snaked back across his chest. Although the scar at this point was much thinner than on his leg the amount of scar tissue more than made up for its size. It protruded so far from his body, I would have believed that there was truly something still under his skin concealed by a thin layer of tissue.
She wore a garland of ivy draped diagonally across her chest concealing only the left half of her bosom. And a pelt of human hair laced to her right thigh which extended to her ankle. And aside from that she had no other hair on the entire surface of her body. She wore a tattoo from the utmost tip of her left foot that spiraled up and around her leg and ending at her naval.
So detailed was this tattoo that to admire its complexity was necessary. From all the artist of the world none could have compared in talent to the one that made this. Exquisite! Horrifying! Unforgettable! Absolutely unforgettable. This was all she wore on her perfectly formed figure. Her skin almost shined as if the sun itself were trying to glow right through her body.
The only color that came from her natural form was in her eyes, if you can call it a color. Her eyes were black as night, black as pitch; black as the black heart of a witch! And the light that lit up her skin beamed threw the whites of her eyes like lightning from the sky. And even that had Phuong Chui with her being.
There was only one thing about her that seemed to be out of place, giving her the demonic look of a seductive deviless. She had an overbite that brought her upper cuspids of perfect form to a jutting rest onto the top of, the reddest, most voluptuous bottom lip I have ever seem. So red one could have thought it was painted with blood.
Saul stood statuesque like a Greek man god sculpted from a mold not even Michelangelo could have competed with. His form was flawless save the scar. A scar, from the looks of it, no man could have ever survived from. It was a gaping scar. One that obvious never received medical attention. In some places it was more than two fingers wide. And it spanned the entire length of his body.
It started at his right foot, on the outside and curved across his knee to its widest point on the inside of his thigh; then disappeared for a moment under a sun bleached upper portion of an adult sized human cranium. When it reappeared on the left side of his torso it was barely a pinky in width, and it snaked back across his chest. Although the scar at this point was much thinner than on his leg the amount of scar tissue more than made up for its size. It protruded so far from his body, I would have believed that there was truly something still under his skin concealed by a thin layer of tissue.
