Stone faced would be an understatement. Every crack was chiselled into his forehead and his eyes were dark holes in the rock. He could have been a statue that was never smoothed and left to the rain and frost for years before it was given a quasi life. Or he could have been a mountain that decided to opt out and leave. And he did leave many places, but it never made any impact on his facial features.
Everyone around him, dwarfed by his size, expected the earth to shake with each of his steps and not only because of his size, he seemed heavy as lead.
It was only when a little boy ran up to him and asked for a piggyback that he finally cracked a smile.
ksbeth
/ October 12, 2013perfect
W. R. Woolf
/ October 12, 2013I’d like to use just one word to express my gratitude for that comment, but I cannot seem to find the right one. So this will have to do:
Thank you very very much!