Sorry for the delay, but the holidays ARE the holidays. To read Part 1, click here. Parts 2 and 3 are here and here.
The following manuscript was found in a cache of stolen documents, nestled between execution orders and ledgers detailing illegal funds siphoned from international aid programs.
The paperwork was going well, and I’d about finished half of a large stack of documents when I looked and noticed the time ... about ten in the evening, and by my reckoning a good a time as any for a well-deserved break. My butler had prepared a robe and silk pajamas, so I slipped into them and picked up a glass of port ... it burned a bit, and I coughed ... I had another, hair of the dog that bit me, as I liked to joke, and this one was better. I sat back and thought about the visitation, wondering again how much credence I could place in Joachim’s shade, before deciding once and for all time (when I make a decision, that’s pretty much it -- I don’t believe in being wrong) that it was just a bit of fog, a wisp of fancy brought on by overly ripe cheese, and those damn oysters. I cracked my knuckles and checked the time.
Curiously, the clock had not moved. It was still still 10 P.M.
More time for a break, then. I poured another glass, downed it, and rubbed my eyes. The chair was very comfortable, the leather supple and yielding against my bulk, and the fire warm, inviting. I yawned. Perhaps a small nap before finishing the paperwork? Usually I delegate as much as I can to my underlings, but there are some things that just need a dictatorial review before affixing the supreme signature, and I was determined to finish tonight.
I was about to ring for my butler when a sound pierced the quiet of the den ... a scraping sound of something metallic being dragged over a threshold, something metallic scraping and ruining my marble floors ....
Continue reading "A Dictator's Christmas Carol, Part 4"