A short piece written as a writing exercise.
Tick, tock, the pendulum swung. All around them gears turned, and he stood still. Was he listening? Consulting some inner voice? Leather creaked as he stepped forward, shaking within his straps. Light played over his bruised flesh, highlighting the speckled web of blood underneath. What world could accept such a sight?
In his bandaged hand he held a faded page…a letter?
“My dearest William,” it read, “My latest efforts have failed. I shall not try again. This is my fate, the price of my hubris. Look upon me, and never forget what I have done.”
By the time I looked up he had already retreated into the shadows. “Mathias?”
“Good-bye-my-friend.” Soon he faded from sight; the creak of leather lost in the sound of gears.
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