Title: The Professor
by Charli from Cheshire | in writing, fiction
The professor, a tall man, glowered over his shaking colleagues. His unruly hair made him look vicious; his hair was like an untamed field. His eyes were bloodshot and violent, demanding answers to questions not yet asked. In the middle of his face was a stoat, crooked nose, with black hairs creeping down towards his pale, cracked lips. His lab coat was impeccably clean and unbelievably white, so white you had to wear sunglasses to look at it. In every pocket was a deadly syringe with a menacing liquid, bubbling and frothing. As soon as he saw you, his hand would creep towards the hard, silver metal as if you were another innocent victim. His sharp talons of nails pinched at his weapon, resisting an early attack. His trousers were a bright shade of green, violent, vomiting green seeping down his legs and onto the tiled floors. He wore sandals on his feet, revealing foul, yellow, curled toenails and more hair that was threatening to grow and suck you into the mad professor.
A nightmare combined with a stranger on the street
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