Black as Ink

Posted: March 6, 2014 in Flash Fiction, Horror, Sword and Sorcery

Francita moved past the rows of forbidden, black-bound books. No words were visible on their spines, only symbols in gold leaf; eye, feather, spider, trident, skull. The master had been at work all night, but he was not tired. His eyes were feverish as he called for another pot of ink. Francita was ready for him, the small dagger sharp and bright in her tiny brown hand. He did not even look at her as he shoved the empty inkpot at her. Lips a hard, bloodless line, Francita stared at the back of his head and hated him. Turning on her heel, she stalked to the shadowed corner of the master’s study and shoved aside a silk screen. The creature shackled to the wall whimpered, tried to shy away as best it could on its crudely sewn stumps. “P-please,” it whispered to her from a ruined mouth. Pricking it under one armpit, Francita drew forth a thick steady flow of the master’s ink.


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