The house was old and rickety. Its jarring sensation shook the various trinkets and masterful gadgets each time a train would exhaustively pass. Cobwebs and the social demure amidst the spiders heavily weighed out on the suppression of the weak against the strong. A myriad of solemn creatures hid amidst the shadows. Their faces tripped by the excessive speed at which they galloped fiercely to save their lives. Dominic sat upon his shelf. His range on full view bestowed a vile impression upon him. For he was the king of the dark. The overseer of this magical world of nothingness.. Of loneliness fine-tuned to deliver its feast of emptiness each day. He watched the carrying rats playfully dominate the small spiders. Their breasts haughty and proud. Their likeness as of a titan that rules the grounds of their dark unsettling territory. The mansion was silent. It stood as a result of a reminder of greed and atrophy within the carol of swollen hands. Their ignorance sang sweet the song that gripped tightly to each golden coin. Their trained oblivion stationed to the promise of a fancier decor. The little robot boy sat on his shelf. His inward dialog ticking the waves within a current of silence and sadness. His eyes scanned the rats chasing for a nibble of food. A huge pantry became the general exercise of their humbling stride. In silence, they climbed the marble edges etched upon spiders lace webbing covering the massive aperture before them. The little robot boy watched as they frantically assumed their stationary calmness. Within a trite rendering of an excessive repetition, they scoured the crackers and morsels of bread that lay attached to the shelving of their final tombs. Dominic thought to himself "Maybe I should go make friends with the rats?" I don't have any friends. I have nothing. Perhaps I could climb down and see if I can find a friend. He stared upon the torn flesh of his left hand. The gyrating gadgetry pulsing their name of contrition. Sorrowful in the flow of false blood flowing through a false face.
Dominic stared over in the corner hesitantly pondering.
I think that's what I need to do?"
YOU ARE READING
Dominic Razortung
HorrorA mechanical boy grows up in aloneness. His tongue is made of razors, his body steel and bolts. He is an orphan. His father lays cold and lifeless at his work table. Day after day the young robotic boy waits for his mother to return. Some day mother...
