The Entropia Sidesword (Discordian Suite)

∴ A Lingering Void ∴

You cannot remember finding the sword, nor lifting it from its dark stone pedestal. You only know that you craved it, and it was in your hand. Turning the blackened hilt in the half-light, you examine its strange engravings, caress the curve of the pommel, feel the weight of the blade.

So engrossed are you in your appraisal that at first you barely notice the sick sensation coursing through your veins – something alien, probing, tentative yet dauntless. A feeling that the sword is somehow trying you for size.

And there is laughter. Impossible laughter, pulsing through the chamber, rattling between ribs and up through your throat. You grasp your wrist with your left hand, digging nails into flesh, willing your fingers to quit the wire-wrapped grip.

The air clears. The sword falls to the ground with a clatter. You realise with a flood of relief and disappointment that the thing will linger on here, awaiting one far greater than you.

Far greater, and far more terrible.

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