THE END
February 13, 2017
No food pellet had dropped onto the tray in at least a month or less. The Jigsaw Man sat in the corner and brooded over this single fact. He twisted his fingers together in a writhing knot. The walls of the cubicle, lit a dim blue, flickered momentarily, then somehow for the first time ever died off completely, plunging the windowless cubicle into a black darkness not unlike the interior of a muted demon. Terror possessed the Jigsaw Man. Trembling violently, he dared to crawl toward the door, the door never before opened, the door of fate unknown. With a sob he grasped the cold knob, twisted it, and wrenched the door ajar. He peered outside.
The treekles gazed curiously at the last man emerging. Then they ate him.
