***
Dr. Mizto came
one day.
The army tried fighting them
and wound up
wounded
by their poison tongue
and weight,
but some doctors
managed to keep the wounded alive
until I appeared
to do some magic
to fix the dying–
and I told them
they were the backup,
not the front lines
but it’s fine,
everyone survived,
and this didn’t
ruin it all.
Then Dr. Mizto and I talked
in another tongue
and Dr. Mizto
laughed
about my experiment
with these mortals
and told me
once it went wrong
they’d help me
erase them
and I asked,
“You think it’s going to go wrong?”
and they said, “Mortals always find a way
to make it go wrong.”
And yeah, I knew that
but kept hoping this would last
a while longer,
and it did,
I guess,
but “a while longer”
is never quite long enough;
just a few years
after that chat with Dr. Mizto,
the expeditions started
into the woods
without my knowledge.
They found no threats
an army would need to face
and no clear evidence
of an apocalypse,
and right around when they returned
with their news
(when I found out
they’d even left),
somebody crucified
the writers
over something about boxing bets
and word of both spread like
plague clouds
and thus
began the protests.
***
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Jordyn Saelor 