By Phil Dyer
“I surrender,” she said. “Completely. Utterly.” She dropped most of her weapons, stumbled closer. “I know when I’m beaten. I mean, you can read minds! Or something, my emotions, intent, whatever. It’s too confusing.”
She shrugged, unhitching her limb extensions for a little extra reach—the better to apologise with—to piteously clutch at his garments with her carbide-knuckled hands. “I never should have—”
Embarrassed now, she tugged at her hair, tangled with secret blades. She couldn’t meet his eyes, looked humbly to his jugular instead.
“I’m just so sorry. For everything.”
Defeated, fumbling, overwhelmed, she coiled into a practiced crouch.
Wow! As the reader, you can totally see what’s coming but, you can’t help but, read on. A little horrified.
You master the art of “show vs tell” very nice. Do you write a lot of fantasy? I got that vibe from this