Ficlets

The Collector

Hundreds of them lined the walls, molded into the shapes of the glass jars that confined them.

He stood in shock and in horror, at every turn confronted with the jars – eyeless, but seeing.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest but when he opened his mouth to scream nothing but a deep hum escaped.

It was then that he remembered her words:

“What beautiful skin you have.â€?

When at last he identified what was in the jars, he doubled over, and vomited.

Again he opened his vomit-coated mouth to scream but there was no sound, no noise, only wave after wave of fear.

The jars looked on.

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