The Broken Post

Jim Stitzel

I dabble a little in a lot of things — writing, webcomics, gaming, photography, web design, music, and more. I’m a full-time code-wrangler with far, far too much to do.


"You are not a man at all, are you?" I heard the god ask behind me. "Nor a god. You are both less -- and more."

Suddenly the weight of everything that had happened fell upon me. The burden weighed heavily on my head, on my shoulders, and I felt immensely, incredibly tired. I reached up with an arm now heavy with fatigue and rapped on the bronze post with knuckles raw as torn flesh. The post shuddered, then shook, and I felt the vibration of its quaking beneath my feet. A moment later, the whole thing fractured, hairline cracks appearing along its entire length like lightning bolts, and then it crumbled to the ground like a pile of metallic stones.

"What are you?" I heard from behind me once again. I turned to face the god that had the voice of my father. This time I saw no anger in those eyes, no fear, only awe.

"You are a messenger," I said. "You have but one duty remaining to you now, and it is to carry this single message to your elders, to your peers. I bind you to this task, from now until forever."


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Inspired by (sequel to):

The god finally found its voice, and not to my surprise, there was a quaver to it. "What are you?"…

Bronze Post

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