Not a hero.
His creator’s words echo in the blackness behind his eyes. Distantly, he feels movement. He waits.
Not a hero.
Not that he’s ever thought of himself as one. He looks like a man but that doesn't change what he is. He’s a machine, created for one purpose.
Close the eye we gave the world.
A strange quest. But it still binds him.
Not a hero.
He waits.
A survivor.
He opens his eyes. Witch stares down at him.
“Good morning.”
They've brought him where he needs to be. Inside the Hole.
No need to play dead anymore.
D.M. about 9 years ago
Your last lines have such finesse.
Jonathan Mills about 9 years ago
Thanks a lot DM, I try to make them punchy.