Manignon

Manignon sits on a slate precipice overlooking the great city of Throkmosis, pondering its inhabitant’s next move.

For ten years, the Throkmosin’s have tried to kill him; he will always outwit their finite bi-pedal minds.

Lonely Manignon is completely aware that he will never

see peace in his lifetime but they who created him will not either; he will see to that. A decade of transformational ruminations had given him a way to change his life. His brain, twelve times the size and scope of theirs, allowed him to wield powers, unfathomable to their tiny brains.

Born in a test tube, in a DNA Research Center, he knows that Dr. Nibulig will never admit to creation and abandonment, none of them will, the cowards. He is forced to fend for himself; often starving, for a few nights. In the winter, his cavern is dark and frigid; his half-human skin cannot shield him from those icy fingers, forever. Only the rocks and sticks keep him warmed and his body aches from winter’s grip.

Watching, he fumed, fretted over the scent coming from the grills at Throkmosin’s festival. “Festival of Feasts”, they called it. All three of his stomachs groaned in agony and piercing pain filled his great torso. He hadn’t eaten in five days. The annual kill for the festival had taken most of the larger creatures he ate for survival. They would pay, one day. His stomach aching profusely, he began the alteration...”You will meet your god tonight,” his thoughts focused on the village, he repeated the vibrational thought; directing it solely towards the Throkmosis...“I am he who allows your life; you will honor and care for me...”

As the vibrations hit each Throkmosin, they stopped in their tracks, mesmerized, unable to move or speak. Another vibration...another and ever so slowly, Manignon crept down the cliffs, into the paralyzed crowd. He released the mental grip just enough; sidling through the crowd on all six legs and as he passed, the citizens fell to their knees. He had won, and not one Throkmosin seemed to wince as he ate his fill; still transfixed by his power; they had no choice, this time.

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