’Tis Enough, ’Twill Serve

She’d thought it a plaything, like all of the others before, a dull piece of scrap wood painted to look like metal under the stage lights. You could see it on her face when it happened, when the blade pierced her brother’s gut: a look of surprise mixed with the thrill of discovery. And then, then she went white, her brother’s body falling towards her, bending at the waist to rest on that horrible blade.

A rope of blood shot out from his back, reaching like a finger for something to cling onto, painting the whitewashed backdrop with one final scratch of life.

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