The souls of the Withered


“So what do you have to say in your defense Herr Eichmann?”

The man in the witness box stood ramrod straight and remorseless. With the contours of a derisive grin slowly taking shape, he replied, “they are durable and soft to step on.”

The prosecutor’s rage now was in full bloom. Turning an incendiary red, he hollered, “soft to step on? Have you counted the bloody pairs? There are more than…. a thousand…. a half-thousand” The gravity of the accused’s crime made him stutter and stammer.

“1254 to be precise.” Eichmann was icy calm personified. “Emaciated skins don’t complain.”

Pandemonium reigned in the courtroom.


This story has been written as part of the FLASH FICTION FOR ASPIRING WRITERS – FFfAW Challenge #184, more details about which may be found HERE

For reading similar entries submitted in response to the FFfAW Challenge #184, please click HERE

Thank You Yarnspinnerr for the photograph!

14 thoughts on “The souls of the Withered

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