5 November 2015



I assembled a menagerie of brightly polished fossils from my collection, each perfectly honed to provide the kind of keen edge a man could shred his soul on. I fastened them to a blackened bough of oak and fashioned a great club festooned with ragged edges. It was a powerful weapon – a primordial weapon. It was unconventional, but it would do the job. Looking back I realise there was perhaps an element of animism in my choice of instrument – maybe I was thinking that some arcane power trapped in those long dead fossilised animals could be harnessed to an act of savage aggression. It’s conceivable that I was hoping for a little magical assistance on the day – I’d never killed before and I suppose I was looking for any advantage I could muster. To tell the truth I don’t think I was thinking too clearly at all, I was in a black and murderous place. He and I were the same – fossilised men from the age of Cain. I took no pleasure in the deed, but it was done of necessity and if I had to I’d do it again.


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