Alternative Energy

by Mr. W

He twiddled the gleaming, silver socket wrench in his fingers and sighed. The cogs and gears snicked along, the leather restraining straps were oiled and crack-free, the massive pendulum razor-sharp, yes. But–he checked his watch again–the damn victim-fueled clock just couldn’t keep a steady time.

He had spent too many years on this. It was time to pack it up.

From the basement of the castle echoed the rattle of chains and a guttural, whimpering scream. He rolled his eyes. Now what was he going to do with all these victims?



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