Lend Me Your Ear

Posted: February 1, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Horror

After long enough in the bush, grunts started collecting necklaces of ears. Left or right only, no doubling up. It was a convenient way to record your kills and we all did it back then. Except for Allister. Don’t fool yourself that he was any better than the rest of us. Al collected ears too, but he cut them from the living. Allister didn’t bother recording his kills. He recorded slaves. At night, back at base camp, he would sit by the fire and whisper commands into those ears, and wherever they were, no matter how far away or how loathsome his orders, the slopes obeyed.


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