“They were human once, were things of blood and bone and flesh, would cry or laugh, they were once men like unto all men, would have died like all men die, but now they’re those things, those lost things, remembered not even by themselves, and so forgotten, are beyond our help.”
The body bag writhed.
“They continue, driven by hunger. Nothing will sate them. Nothing will stop them.”
It began to scream.
“Now they are things of puss, rot, and decay. They continue and will continue.”
The workers threw the thing into the fire. I watched as it fell, end over end, down into the dark pit of flames.
“It seems a shame,” I finally said. We had stood before the pit for some time, gazing long into its unsearchable depths. He nodded, stroking his white mustache.
“You’re young,” he said. “Just remember this.” I could see the orange glint of fire reflected in his unblinking eyes. Turning back to the pit, I looked down into its darkness.
Clenching and unclenching my hand, I asked, “What part did they take from you?”
He pointed to his eye. “Glass,” he said.
I lifted up my hand. The craftsmanship was excellent. Polished plates of whalebone made the exterior. I knew that beneath were springs and gears, inhuman machinery hidden under that smooth white bone. I opened and closed my hand.
“We were human once,” I observed. My companion snorted. I reached my hand over the pit, immune to the fiery pain. We were human once, I thought to myself, we were all human.
Tale Told 