Witnesses

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

IN THE END, he stopped talking about it. Nobody had believed him, and one old friend had gone so far as to question his sanity in print. There was was a savagery in the piece that make it more like betrayal than incredulity.

And it was incredible, the more so in that out of the millions of camera phones in the city, not a single soul had taken a video or even a picture. He had met others who had seen it, but nobody had evidence.

They called themselves Witnesses, but Waiters would be more appropriate.

They waited.

 

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