Today’s Word: Marionette
Horner hid behind a tree as his much younger twin and Mance stood conversing on the field of green. Joggers passed by, pounding out their mandatory three miles a day, while couples on soft-colored spreads shared low fat cream cheese and fruit. None of them knew their lives were being doomed to the Empyrean's rule once again (perhaps for the second time, perhaps the billionth). And none, it would seem, could feel the near-overwhelming waves of nausea clawing at Horner's insides. He felt like a marionette whose strings were being pulled sharply back, as if to pull him away from something.
"Time won't be fooled," said Horner, in a low voice.
His alter-self and Mance started away, and Horner followed.
To be Continued