Botch

Six Sentence Story

person holding a green plant

He would not botch this job, his pride was invested in this. In fact he was a perfectionnist. Obstacles, for him, were more reasons to do this well, to craft the work as was done in older times. I always saw him as the human being, capable, reflective, seeking improvements, around him and in him.

But us, we were different, design to perfection, no soul, no personal feeling. Or, at least, this was what we believed, until we met him.

Inspired by The Wednesday Prompt #21

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Gallery #SixSentenceStory

Wednesday’s Six Sentence Story Challenge #4

computer earphone figurine furniture
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He looked back at the portraits of his ancestors, on the walls of the dusty gallery, and wondered.

What would they think of him, this ruin of a man, this wreckage?

There is no trace of glory for them to see, merely the shameless face of a sinner, a deluded thief.

But then, he is here, still, and they are long gone, ashes and dust, forgotten.

Sic fugit gloria mundi, he thought…

As his skeletal hand rubbed his polished, fleshless skull.