Mousetrap #11

by practicalspactical

Father Grim, Old MP, tells the story of the time, when as executioner of mus musi, he lost count of the iron-wire spring traps he had placed in strategic locations around the house. Someways like the Spartan Threehundredhead, perhaps, missing that goat trail —

several weeks or moonmonths later, Grim is moving the ceiling tiles and discovers the preterite zogreion. Peering closer, he just makes out the thinly etched dark outline of some small thing, caught, like the flashbang silhouettes on the crumbling walls of Hiroshima —