"And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage." Baz shakes his head, the old Poe poem ringing his senses clear and calling him to action!
Keep yer wits man
Baz raises the knife in his hand to the heart, ready to cut into it like an apple but his mouth twists and sours and he grits his teeth and holds the blade up high to strike at it. His vision flashes back to the wall carvings in the rooms just beyond where he now sits, the scenes of the dark pharaoh commanding his priests and the heart being weighed on scales.
It would seem that Twain was right when he said "The heart is the real fountain of youth." Well buddy I aim to piss in yer fountain.
Baz plunges his hunting knife into the beating heart and winces as he strains to hear any reactions.
Last edited April 26, 2023 3:23 pm