Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Matchstick Souls

by Mari Ness

One by one, he bound the souls into the wooden stick figures, listening to the screams of each bound soul. Old souls, these: the wooden splinters caught and shattered their memories. He raised the fragile figures to their feet, feeling their hatred, their need for revenge.

"Your families await," he whispered, and handed them torches.

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