Metaphors

The Kark settled comfortably on the creaking boards and regarded the room critically. A hole had been torn into the wall and part of the floor, leaving an opening that emptied out into one of Eblinfort's familiar, vertiginous avenues. The Kark idly pondered the strange architectural convention; small, shed-like buildings haphazardly tacked onto vast, wooden walls. From his vantage he could see dozens, leaning on thick supports over the inexplicable precipice.

He exhaled comfortably, and watched the blue column rise through the rafters. Little yellow flowers bloomed in the haze, then turned orange, and drooped. The sun blazed a magnificent, fiery red as it set over the vast panorama. Through the lone, narrow doorframe, the Kark could hear a vicious clank and hiss. The flat metal head snaked out on a sinewy neck, and slowly the body sidled behind it, metal claws scrabbling for purchase in the tight corridor. Finally it was framed by the doorway, hind legs pressed against the wall, front legs crouched to hurl its entire bulk against the still figure of the Kark. Shriveled petals drifted with smoke on a lazy breeze.

"Go ahead, jump. Not as though I have a bunch of time left, anyhow." Across the chasm, a red figure was dashing along a rooftop, pursued by hunched creatures struggling to level heavy rifles. The Kark put out his cigarette.

There was a gentle buzzing. The ghoul shifted its shoulders, causing its glassy-eyed rider to loll his head. Slowly, one huge claw extended into the room, and set down gently on the floor. Nothing happened. Suddenly, it hauled itself to its feet and jammed through the doorway, cracking the frame and leaving deep scores in the wood. Forepaws closed on leather-clad wrist, and the ghoul wrenched the Kark onto his back, pinning his arms. The flat head swiveled away, revealing a neck composed principally of glossy surgical implements. There was a flat slap, and the Kark's head was pinned to the floor under a strap. He kicked brutally against the machine's steel underbelly, rolling on his back to try and free his head. There was the gentle whirring of a circular saw, and a sickening crunch.

The saw stopped, and the head twisted back into position, casting around.