The Price of Wisdom

Posted: February 10, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Horror

The sheriff’s deputies was the ones what broke up the lynching and cut him down from the old tree. People think the Klan ain’t active around here no more, but they was wrong. They carted ’em off to jail and took the boy they was hanging to the hospital. The Klan had been torturing him. Tore one of his eyes out. Thing that surprised everybody was he wasn’t black. He was one of them neo-nazi kids, skint-head and all covered in tattoos, lightning bolts and shit. The guys from the Klan said they was doing him a favor. Said he wanted to to be hung as some kind of sacrifice. Said he worshipped Wooden or Wotan or something like that. That he wanted his power. Well, maybe he got it. Or Wooden got him. I’m an ordely at Ashford General and round midnight I was buffing the floors when I hear these terrible screams. I run into his room. The saftey glass in the window is smashed out and the wall’s all covered in blood. Someone had wrote in it, crazy writing that some FBI guy that taking pictures of them said was runes. He was an expert on it, even told me what they meant. “One eye was the price of wisdom. Two eyes is the price to live.”


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