Original tell: He was Alexander Dumas, he could read.
Showing:
Squinting in the dim candle light, the shadowed figure tried to make out the faded words on the pages, jumping every time he heard the slightest noise, fearing it was the Enforcers.
He shifted nervously, he knew it was to risky to be doing what he was doing, but he could not help himself, the words entranced him, weaving him in their binding spell. He whispered the words to himself, not more than the hush of a breath.
Alexander heard the scuff of a footstep and swiftly his the fragile papers under a stone in a hollowed out corner nearby.
1 comment:
Nice! I like the description, the world he's in. You've captured what it means to be able to read, the danger he's in because he can do it, and so you've added a whole new dimension to "reading" and what that ability signifies in the context of the universe you created.
I remember, now, you sent me the prologue for this a while back.
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