Chapter 1: The Rubber Throne
Sebastian White chewed his lip anxiously as his eyes panned over the horizon.
His mind was preoccupied with the unwelcome surprise he had recently found sitting on his rubber throne—rubber because he argued it was safer than a throne of iron that he might walk into and wound his toe upon.
Continue reading “A Hero By Accident (Ch. 1)”
CHILD: “See Spot run. Spot runs fast.”
UNIVERSITY STUDENT: “C. Spot runs. No wait! B.”
POLITICIAN: “Spot is running against me? But voters love dogs…”
SALESPERSON: “Running? Spot, see what this car can do for your commute.”
MARKETER: “See how Spot increased his walking speed by 400%.”
HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER: “Spot: Run like the wind.”
H.R: “I see on Spot’s LinkedIn profile that “running’ is his only skill. He does have 500 endorsements though.”
I.T: “See, Spot is running Windows 8. That’s the problem.”
PSYCHIATRIST: “Why are you running, Spot? Let’s walk together. Through your childhood.”
TEACHER: “Don’t let me see you running in the halls, Spot!”
COMEDIAN: “What’s Spot running from anyway? His drinking problem?”
REPORTER: “See Spot, allegedly rabid dog, chase after elderly white male.”
DRUG DEALER: “I don’t see why Spot ran. Was he holding?”
POLICE OFFICER: “Spot ran when he saw us. We were justified in our use of force.”
LAWYER: “In Spot’s defence, he was merely jogging.”
She was not the first to show up at the gates to the village of Sehman without a tongue. In fact, he was the fourth. They all arrived in the same condition: afraid, unable to do more than babble with their tongues gone, repeating again and again what seemed to be a name: Woheha.
Each victim had been initially bound for Tica, the neighbouring town. Nobody was sure what happened on the way; men without tongues do not tell good stories and, like most of the farming village, they could neither read nor write.
Whatever happened to these men outside the village, they were eager to cast it from their memory, content to live their remaining years in silence. The first man to see it, a particularly poor artist, sketched a picture of how this Woheha looked. It looked like a lion according to the drawing. But what would a lion want with tongues?
Continue reading “The Woheha”