Nail - a Short Story
““Do you mean to call me a liar, then— some form of deceptive tormentor bent on your agony?”
Zell clenches his aged fist and sharpens his gaze. “Yes, elder,” he declares; an older woman bursts into tears.
The elder recomposes himself to a full stature. “What wrong have I done you? Are you not happy and industrious here in the true world?”
“No. We’re dying out and working for you day and night! Wood—” He looks over to the giant mountain of long wooden beams that the elder provides for them.
“…lumber! I’ve never once seen it occur naturally here. I want to see where wood comes from, and I know it’s not here. You’re keeping us from figuring out the big picture!”
Amidst the commotion of the surrounding people, Bas’Tun stands tall next to the elder. “The lightless sickness has finally gotten to him! We should throw him in with the sick and kill the spirit man!”
The elder draws back, as if shocked like the others— but this is precisely what he wanted.
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