“Listen!” the Captain orders as the King’s sword intends to pierce his throat.
“You may be written all over pages,” the whispering words continue, “but you’re not carved in stone: for every ‘yes’ word that can be found, there’s a matching ‘no’ to contradict and annihilate. The worse contradictions can only be found in written words. You’re a meaningless, pretentious bunch!”
“I beg you to listen,” the Captain insists, the King now hesitant to kill.
And before a might-be-friend is mercilessly maimed and slain, King Krackskull listens to words he doesn’t recognise as those of the Captain.
The corridor is darker than ever as thick black dust emanating from embattled written and whispering words fills every particle of air within close vicinity and expands beyond. The books on the shelves are sending their pages to battle as reinforcement from whispering words is coming from all directions. The King, understanding he must listen to his own inner chit-chat, beyond written and spoken words, draws the Doctor’s stick. Words recede in the background, taken aback by the sheer force of the tiny light ray.
The only way out of this war zone is up, he reckons. Captain Traumatic and King Krackskull start to climb the unending book shelves. As they go up, up, up, the King pierces through books and stacks them to his sword as they continue to climb until they find a platform to rest. They’re above the cloud of wordy dust. They can still hear lingering murmurs:
“We’re powerful, we’re the chosen ones…” some say, “give in or die,” others carry on in a never ending bid to decimate each other’s power.
“Here,” the King asks the Captain, “scan these will you?”
To be continued…©