Five Sentence Fiction – Words


The scenarios for what would happen next were pretty clear – either more monsters would come, in which case Simon would be killed, other humans would come, in which case he’d be saved and the monster killed, or they’d both die here, probably very slowly, of starvation or exposure or disease. He hadn’t had much time to observe the monsters passively, without fear of immediately being eaten, and as he watched it struggle, mindlessly and futilely thrashing against its captivity, he was struck by an undeniable sense of wrong, of a pain emanating from the monster that had nothing to do with the stone blocks resting on its legs. It hadn’t asked to be as it was, and whatever had been done to strip it of its humanity was a violation of decency, of free will, of the way things should be, and Simon’s understanding of the task which lay before him became clearer.

Accepting for the first time the role he was still terrified of but knew was his, Simon began to talk, telling his story and cementing his promise to try, as best as he could, to save whoever he could. He didn’t think the monster would be able to understand him, but he hoped that someone, or something – maybe the umbrella – would, and that just speaking the words aloud would matter.


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