Friday Fiblet: Bones
”Don’t cut that up. I want it whole.” He eyed the light cloak with greed. All his clothes were made for cold, not heat. ”Roll you for it.”
Some odd quirk of mind made him use his fair dice. He lost.
He lost the next round too, and had to do bones.
He craned his neck up at the man. All those hours nailed up in the sun. It was so hot… too hot to break bones.
Nuts to that. He turned his spear and poked a hole in the Jew’s side. Blood and water.
He was dead all right.
-BT Murtagh
(I’m thinking of making a short-short fiction like this a regular thing. What do you think?)
