Anais picked at the lump under her knuckle. It was growing. They would notice soon.
The cell door slid open with a suction hiss. One of the creatures lurched inside, reptilian in its plated compression suit. It threw something at her feet.
“Make your confession,” it said.
Anais looked down and nearly laughed. A pen and paper? They must have been watching too many old movies.
“I’ll need time,” was all she said.
When the creature left, she picked up the pen and started to dig. In a few hours, she would release the parasite. She would end this war.
Author’s Note: I set out for a walk one night with the aim of coming up with a short story idea. The result was this drabble.
“Next,” the Administrator called out. A lumbering mass shuffled in.
“Have a seat.” She studied the file in front of her while the thing ponderously settled itself. It was common courtesy to wait a few breaths to see if the chair would hold.
“Name?” she asked.
The Administrator dutifully scrawled Dur in black ink. It was the twelfth Dur she’d encountered that day. Another two and she’d beat her record.
Unemployed, she wrote.
“Tell me what interests you in the Troll Bridge Rehabilitation Project.”
The Administrator sighed. She closed the file. Another dud.
Author’s Note: This drabble is based on a longer story that has been on my “to write” list for a while. It will be about a troll re-settlement program, similar to the re-settlement programs that saw “invalids” being granted lands in Canada.