The Little Man And I

Drip… Drip… Drip…

“What is it now?” A shadow passed across the face of a tiny man. He lifted his head to see a demon perched by the window.

“A lying tongue, my good man.” The demon smiled it’s sharp, stained teeth. It smiled because of the little man’s face. He pulled the face of one who was suppressing an unannounced internal pain. Oh, how beautiful it was.

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The little man picked up his sharp little quill and started to write onto the soft, warm surface.

“Work’s been busy?” Asked the man, trying his best to hide any emotion from his voice.

The demon opened his wings to reveal another mouth protruding from his stomach.

It spoke.

“Don’t you want to know what he said?”

The man was only half way through carving ‘lying’ when the bleeding started.

“Or are you running out of space? I know another little man who ran out of space only yesterday.”

“Oh?” The little man’s poker face took up valuable vocabulary space. He finished off his second word, pulled a little handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his bloody hand.

The demon closed his wings and spoke from his sharp teeth.

“Work is easy. I hardly have to do anything. It’s almost like delegating without delegating. They are all under his employ now.

The words reflected on the little man’s eyes as he shut the doors of reaction.

“Oh?”

The demon smiled.

“At least it keeps you in a job. I’ll se ya.”

And with that, the demon departed. The little man breathed a sigh of relief. He sat down, wiped his hands free from blood stared at the bleeding heart in front of him. A giant heart, stained and scared with evil.

It was afternoon now and the light from the window was passing along the floor as the day came closer to an end. The light never reached the heart.

The man sat alone in the dark and began to cry.

– By Randall Evans.

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