Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #16 July 2015 | Page 51

I sheathe my dagger on a prominent location.
Kids. They think the dark is all corsets and
leather. Works for me. I found it strange that beauty
is so sought after. You would think they who want to
be different would not be so similar. Now, I like it.
Makes things simple.
I walk down the hallway in my hood.
I am never the end of the circle. I never pose
as the founder. It is far easier to hide as one of them.

I walk in with the other four.
They think I am what they desire to be. That I
am one step above them, one step closer to what they
want. We face the ten. They crave to be us.All the
longing. It can almost be tasted. I almost wish I was
feeding off it. Almost.
The four kneel behind an alcove. As I remove the hood, my real self shines through. It is not
beautiful. It is terrifying. Among their screams, I find
my song. And as I tear through their muscles, all the
centuries of work flow together into one glorious path.
My path.

PAGE 00
51