100 Words a Day 1088

Stan sighed as he slipped his punch card into the slit on the side of the machine. When he removed it, the time was stamped in the wrong spot. They were supposed to correct it when that happened, but Stan put his card away without caring. They weren’t going to fire him after all.

He lingered in the kitchen until his boss eyed him. Then he dragged himself to his desk and fell into his seat. He shuffled papers listlessly for thirty minutes before he managed to swallow his dissatisfaction and begin working at the stumbling pace of the apathetic.

100 Words a Day 1087

“Duck!” Halfin shouted, thrusting his hand forward and sending a jet of flame towards the ogre guard.

Morg threw himself on the ground and then winced. He felt flames scrap across his back, ruining his shirt and roast the flesh on his back.

In a moment he had banished the pain and leapt back to his feet. The elf that had been standing in front of him was rolling on the ground, gurgling, hands held over the remains of his face.

“Let’s go!” Halfin cried, grabbing Morg and pulling him towards the door before the other shocked elves could advance.

100 Words a Day 1086

His face contorted in rage and his large scorpion tail raised over his head, casting its shadow over the bound man as it loomed over him.

“Not so tough now are you?” the fleshwarper asked. “No defiant slogans. No slaughtered guards.”

The man said nothing. The fleshwarper slapped him with his large ape-arm, sending the man to his knees.

“Under normal circumstances I would cut you to bits and use you for spare parts. Unfortunately I cannot risk your revolutionary streak contaminating my soldiers.”

He stalked a circle around his kneeling prisoner, scorpion tale hovering in anticipation of the kill.

100 Words a Day 1085

“You think fooling around with other people’s money and buying a nice suit makes you some sort of alpha dog? You wouldn’t recognize alpha if it was the only letter in the alphabet. The capacity to do violence as represented by bone and sinew was first substituted for bits of paper you crumble up and put in your pocket, and now its little bits of electricity. Strip away the gilded façade of civilization though boy, and your little bits of electricity won’t mean shit. Someone won’t come along and wipe that smug grin off your face, they’ll eat it off.”

100 Words a Day 1084

Morg spent several days convalescing after the operation. Lying in a soft bed in the room next to Arghul’s laboratory, he could feel his flesh mend and the organ slowly engorge with blood. Once saturated, the muscular blob dumped its invigorating chemicals into Morg’s waiting blood, then squeezed the crimson fluid back into his veins. The first change he noticed was the taste of the broth Arghul brought him. Right after the operation, he’d felt it bland. After a few days though, he began to pick out subtle flavors he hadn’t noticed before, herbs that grew in Arghul’s great garden.