The tiniest scraping followed the slightest scratch. Perhaps some predatory owl having made a nest in the crumbling brickwork marked his territory, or a rat clawed for food? Perhaps, not? To the untrained ear, those sounds as of infestation were just that, but a father will always know his own.
A shadow cast a black shade across Robert’s narrowed eyes, then another and another. One by one, those that stood before the full moon lowered, scrambled, or jumped to the stone floor.
It is said man was the sole creature given the gift of tears. If anyone should have seen the gathering of those obscure forms, those tiniest of metal creations, they should have disagreed.
“Papa,” one wept.
“Father,” cried another.
“Daddy,” said the littlest of all. “What have they done to you, Daddy?”
“My child
