The old man pointed at the wall, and streams of energy streaked out, puncturing and piercing the plastered surface. Seemingly amazed at his ability, he continued to repeat his actions, leaving the wall pockmarked.
Flabbergasted by this reality-defying act, I genuflected before him and asked how he acquired the divine skill. He did not seem to notice me, and started mumbling to himself.
"Finally, after 80 years, I have mastered the mysteries of the Thunderboil Fingers !! They had thought me to be mad, locking me up in this sanatorium, but now I can finally prove my sanity !"
The old man then turned to me, and continued.
"When I was a young boy, I saw an old man practicing the skill. Amazed, I implored him to teach me his art. He gave me a manual for the Thunderboil Fingers, which I have been practicing ever since. He warned me that the skill should be studied slowly, and the effects would only be apparent after a very long period of study."
"And so, I practiced daily, though I never saw any results. People thought me to be mad, but I knew in my heart that one day, I would prove everyone wrong. Now, finally, after over 80 years, I have mastered the skill !"
As the old man was speaking, tears came out from his eyes. The moment which he had been anticipating for his whole life was apparently too emotional for him to bear.
Then, he died. It was quite possible that the exertion had exhausted what feeble strength that he had. I searched the old man's body, and found the manual for the Thunderboil Fingers. It was a complex and arcane work, clearly requiring much study to understand.
The sanatorium management came and asked me to explain the events that had transpired, and I gave a clear account of what happened. When I pointed to the hole-ridden wall as evidence for my account, they were unconvinced, and claimed that I had drilled holes into the wall.
They claimed me to be insane, and locked me up, possibly for life. In this clearly unfair situation, what else could I have done? I started practicing the Thunderboil Fingers.
Just you wait, I'll be out in no time at all.
Flabbergasted by this reality-defying act, I genuflected before him and asked how he acquired the divine skill. He did not seem to notice me, and started mumbling to himself.
"Finally, after 80 years, I have mastered the mysteries of the Thunderboil Fingers !! They had thought me to be mad, locking me up in this sanatorium, but now I can finally prove my sanity !"
The old man then turned to me, and continued.
"When I was a young boy, I saw an old man practicing the skill. Amazed, I implored him to teach me his art. He gave me a manual for the Thunderboil Fingers, which I have been practicing ever since. He warned me that the skill should be studied slowly, and the effects would only be apparent after a very long period of study."
"And so, I practiced daily, though I never saw any results. People thought me to be mad, but I knew in my heart that one day, I would prove everyone wrong. Now, finally, after over 80 years, I have mastered the skill !"
As the old man was speaking, tears came out from his eyes. The moment which he had been anticipating for his whole life was apparently too emotional for him to bear.
Then, he died. It was quite possible that the exertion had exhausted what feeble strength that he had. I searched the old man's body, and found the manual for the Thunderboil Fingers. It was a complex and arcane work, clearly requiring much study to understand.
The sanatorium management came and asked me to explain the events that had transpired, and I gave a clear account of what happened. When I pointed to the hole-ridden wall as evidence for my account, they were unconvinced, and claimed that I had drilled holes into the wall.
They claimed me to be insane, and locked me up, possibly for life. In this clearly unfair situation, what else could I have done? I started practicing the Thunderboil Fingers.
Just you wait, I'll be out in no time at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment