The Weapon
A drabble
Part 1 of Aspects
By The Nut
31 Oct 2003

He turned the weapon in his hand, and silver flickered, dancing around the confines of the hole, his hiding place from those who would slay him.

Murder him for what he was.

For what he had done.

The night left gaps in his vision allowing his mind to create images for him, to mould the shadows into shapes.

He could no longer see where his body ended, and where the weapon began.

And such was he.

Such was his life.

They would murder him for what he was.

Because it was no worse than what he had done to them.

**********
FIN.