By Phil Dyer
The Scholar knew the town would come for him, eventually. He told me many times.
Their fury tore through the manor, the brain vaults, the slabs. The lightning cages. And me, cowering, stitches strained with pallid muscle, pleading in pantomime.
They would have killed me. One brave woman made them understand. She took my claws in gentle hands and led me out, a victim like the rest.
I saw the Scholar, broken at the tower’s base. So small a man in death. My saviour spat and pulled me safely away.
Excellent creations, both.
I shall make more when I am able.
Love love love it. Well crafted piece. I don’t understand it but I perceive it
I’d like to read more about the creations and their creator. Well done.
A bit too subtle for me, sorry.
I have read this twice. I’m saving it to go over again. Was the scholar someone jailed for speaking the truth? Or was the scholar P.T. Barnum, the scholar of tricking people, knowing the show would eventually end? Was the narrator with claws, a lion, and the savior, an animal right activist? This is some story. I would love for the author to answer my questions.