Ficly

The Fall

The portable radio tinnily blasted out a crappy pop song as Marcus continued to hammer in the tiles on his roof.

Today was hot, to say the least. The air felt sluggish and thick, people’s tempers were now easily frayed, and wherever you looked, you were bound to see the odd mirage hovering over the tarmac.

The sun was dangerously bright, too. Marcus remembered waking up next to Sarah this morning, looking groggily out of the bedroom window and seeing the branches of the neighbouring trees being split apart by the fierce light.

He paused to wipe a sheen of sweat from his forehead, when he noticed something in the sky above him.

It was a cloud formation that, impossible as it seemed, was shaped like a giant eye.

Marcus stared at the eye.

The eye stared back.

Subtly, his body grew weaker and his left temple began to throb…


As he was falling to the ground, and just before his head collided with the groud, Marcus thought:

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he become a monster…”

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