Wednesday 6 August 2014

Writing An Open Invitation



It had taken a few minutes, and he’d had to kill… Well, incapacitate one of his brothers on the way, but the Novice finally got to the Abbot’s quarters.

“Father, there’s-“

The Abbot cut him off with a curt “I am out of ink” without looking up from his writing.

“But Father, there is this… mist-“

“I am out of ink.” the Abbot repeated. Confused, the Novice quickly fetched an inkpot.

“Father, a mist is turning-“

“Wrong ink.” said the Abbot as he slapped the inkpot out of the Novice’s hands and then plunged his quill into the Novice’s throat.

No comments:

Post a Comment