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Flash Fiction – The 59th Breslau Conference.

They just walked over and grabbed my arms, carrying them to the sturdy table.

“You will get these back when you learn to behave,” snarled Mister Broca, in his stove-pipe hat.

“We should beat him with them,” suggested bowler-hatted Mr Wernicke, saliva dripping from pointed teeth.

A gust swept throughout the grey emptiness of the room. With a “whoosh,” Broca, now sixty-feet tall and six inches wide loomed over me, serpiginous and full of venom.

Then, with a fizz, Wernicke, now sixty-feet wide and six inches tall, curled around me like a shroud

“Kill him now,” they said, in unison.