Fiction | January 31, 2014

The tyrant in his fortress

He is seated on a throne, looking bored. An empty hall lit dimly by high sconces. The stone walls and vaulted ceilings amplify every sound. And yet, all is silent except for the sputtering of the flames and the rasp of the tyrant’s breath. He leans forward as if to make a grim proclamation but instead lets out an abrupt and high-pitched sneeze.

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