“You mean the scribbles? Yes there is scribbles, but they don’t mean nothing. I can read most words easy. I didn’t see one real word on the mirror.”
“I didn’t either,” Frend added.
“You can’t read.” Grend scoffed, “Course you didn’t recognise the scribbles.”
“I can when I want. If its interesting. I can read. And anyways you can’t read. You only pretend.”
“NO I don’t.”
“You do. Creator tell him.”
“Stop asking the Creator to do things, he doesn’t like you.”
Frend stopped and his mouth dropped.
“He….he doesn’t like me?” Frend swallowed hard.
“Creator…is it true? Why? Because I helped cut you up? Because I helped bury you underground? Because I imprisoned you? Put those things in your eyes? In your mouth? Was it because I-”
“ENOUGH, GOOD GODS ENOUGH.” The Creator’s voice cracked as he attempted to shout. “You need to tell me about the mirror.”
“He doesn’t like me.” Frend stared wide eyed at the Creator before he slowly turned and walked to the corner. Sitting down heavily he placed his head in his hands and wiped a tear from his eye.
“The mirror?” Grend ignored his brother’s theatrics, “Oh yeah the mirror. I’ve a question for you-”
“No, no, NO. You need to tell me-”
“EHHHHH. No interrupting. I go first. You are only a head. You listen we talk alright.” Grend played with the keys about his neck. “We are the Masters now, me and my Brother, Frend.”
“Fine.” The Creator exhaled deeply and smiled. “What is your question.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Frend, seemingly having completely forgotten about his earlier disappointment and sadness bounced back up beside Grend.
“Go on, ask him. Ask him.”
Grend patted his Brother on the back.
“No, Brother. You. You ask him.”
Frend gasped.
“ME? I can ask? Really Grend.”
“Really Frend.”
Frend shook himself down and took three deep breaths.
The Creator’s eyes twitched but he held his smile.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Creator,” Frend began, “Can… a Mirror…. see…People.”
“NOOOOO,” Grend roared and elbowed Frend out of the way.
“Can a Mirror EAT People.”
Frend shook his head laughing and snapped his fingers.
“Aha Eat, yes that’s it. Can a mirror eat People.”
The Creator shut his eyes.
“What?”
It’s a fiddle,” Frend declared.
“A riddle,” Grend corrected.
“A riddle? Are you sure.” Frend squinted his eyes as if lost in thought.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Grend said but with some hesitation.
“The fox cousin asked you this?” The Creator said slowly.
“He did,” Grend admitted.
The Creator’s eyes widened.
“Listen to me. Fox cousin is no friend. He wants to take what you have. All of it. Take it and use my tower, my chambers, dungeons, labs to continue-”
“Oh, Creator,” Grend snorted, “If you don’t know the answer just say it.”
“He’s thinking literally.” Frend shook his head disappointed.
“He is, isn’t he.” Grend wiped a large hand across his face.
“NO. Listen to me.” The Creator pleaded, “Twins you must listen. The fox cousin will use the mir….”
The Creator’s words were drowned out as Grend slammed a lid down on the jar.
“He’s talking too much now, I don’t like it. Heads shoud be more polite and I’m getting bored. Let’s go back up and get one of the cousins cook us up something nice.”
Frend clapped his hands excitedly, “Ohhh yes, I am hungry. We can come back to see him tomorrow anyhow. Creator ain’t going nowhere.”
“Thinking literally, Good Gods man.”
Grend shook his head once more at the Creator in the jar before he put an arm around Frend.
With that they were done, both bounded towards the exit without sparing another glance back at the Creator. If they had they would have seen him desperately shouting to be heard, so much so that specks of spittle began to cover the jar’s dirty glass.
The Creator kept on screaming to be heard right until the door was slammed shut on him. Finally he relented. His mouth felt dry, alien. The attempts to communicate had exhausted him.
The Creator’s mind whirred. He knew the foxlings ambitions, knew his capabilities. Recalled what he himself had done to his apprentice. The kitlings, the female. It had been cruel, he knew that. But necessary. For without it he could not advance, could not understand, analyse, research. He’ll understand, the Creator reassured himself, he’s probably an accomplished wizard by now, he’ll understand.
But deep down the Creator knew otherwise. As the screams of the kitlings and female came back to him he remembered how one noise had rose above them. The screams of his apprentice, restrained, breaking bones and tearing fur in an effort to free himself.
The Creator had felt many things in his 678 Days imprisonment. Fury, anger, shame, annoyance, regret, pain, suffering. But he felt something new now. He felt scared.