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The Story Teller's Tale

Page 2

Clare Rhoden

Ferals got made by the Conflagrationists back in the time of the last war. You’ve all heard something about that, right? Well, the Ferals were creatures of partly bodies and partly engines, and their only want in life was to kill. The Conflagrationists made them that way to fight better, but even after the Conflagrationists were long gone and all their cities too, and all the people who survived had gone back to hunting and fishing and gathering plants, those Ferals still roved the land.

You see, Ferals never die. They just go on killing and killing, and if ever it happened that they couldn’t find something properly alive to kill, then they would just kill each other. Or try to kill each other, because Ferals can’t die, not properly. That’s because every broken-up chunk of Feral would spark up to life again and suddenly there’d be five or eight or ten new Ferals, or however many morsels had parts enough to get themselves going again.

Why don’t we have them Ferals any more? Yes, that’s right, Daisy, it’s because of the big flood that covered Broad Plain. All those Ferals are lying at the bottom of the Plain Ocean, because they never could swim and what with their engines and all, they were too heavy to float. We may hope that the water never goes back to its old home or those Ferals will probably just start up again.

The massacre? Thank you Daisy, I’m getting to that. So my little daddy is out with his family and the Ferals get to them and shred them up proper. The Ferals don’t eat them, remember, all they want to do is to kill whatever living thing they see. Yes, Daisy, just like crocodylli.


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