Seventy / Basic / The Dark Conversation

3 fictions.

Seventy

The tyrant sat in his office in his house on the hill. He pushed a button on his desk A manservant entered.

“Bring me some of my coins. My gold coins.” He paused for a moment, and looked up at the ceiling. “At least seventy.”

“Yes, Captain. Very good.” The manservant exited. Shortly, he returned carrying a drawstring pouch. The pouch clinked heavily as he walked. He brought the pouch to the tyrant. The tyrant took the pouch and dismissed the manservant. Alone again, the tyrant started taking gold coins out of the pouch and throwing them at a patch of sunlight on the floor. He took careful aim with each coin, trying to land it in the absolute center of the light. As the sun moved across the sky, so the light moved across the floor. He adjusted his aim accordingly, such that, as the day progressed, he slowly drew a trail of glinting discs leading into shadow.

At nightfall, the light was extinguished. He picked up the phone on his desk and committed the deed.