Faster and faster, they crawled on their bellies. Whining, wheezing, begging for their master to let them up again. Once more, master, only once more. We won't try to run...this time. In his ear, they whispered and wallowed, until the master grew weary of their voices and, with a snap of his fingers, discarded them.
The murky forms on the floor lay limply at his feet, as they had always done and would continue to do, into times out of remembrance. One squelched beneath a tight-strap boot and the master was ready to begin his day. Oblivious to the pleas that would continue to haunt his nightmares for a good while to come, he took his place in the rocking chair inside the parlor and beckoned open the door. 
And like every morning, the crowds gasped and murmured as the doors slid open without a human hand in sight. Cheap tricks, but they kept the crowds entertained, always second-guessing, perennially on their toes, which in turn kept the master entertained.

He nodded his head, ever so lightly, for the first one to step forth. A girl, not much older than his daughter had been, at the time she was taken, but that had been so long ago. In another lifetime, one might say. He was not the master back then, just a regular straight-lace man, inching his way toward retirement. No, the girl before him was not his daughter. Her sins smelled different and her hair was less thick. It had been damaged with chemicals intended to make her look like someone she was not. 
The master, in his rocking chair, watched the girl sit down fearfully, on the bench opposite. The mourners were not allowed more than a bench, certainly not a chair, for that would suggest comfort. And that, in turn, might suggest weakness in the master. There was none to be found and it would just be a waste of time for the mourners to try. 
He preferred to keep things simple.

![girl-collects-flowers-1725176_960_720.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmbxRVmfsz5E8v5aLJv86857MakLeUWCrTPCndCLejEzct/girl-collects-flowers-1725176_960_720.jpg)

'I need to ask you something.' The girl's voice didn't sound quite right, he knew as soon as she opened her mouth and he felt the stench of death tickle his nostrils. The girl with bleached hair spoke to him from a very long way down.
'Don't you all?'
'I'm sorry?'
'Ask your question, little one, I haven't all eternity.' 
It wasn't, technically, a lie. While he did have the rest of eternity entirely at his disposal, it seemed the requests of the mourners were never-ending. There was always one more to get to, someone else's wishes to comply with. If he saw fit to do so.
He noticed the girl's lower lip trembling until she bit it hard enough to draw blood, but still, it wouldn't stop. Only slightly, but enough for him to notice. He'd made it a habit of his to keep an eye on such...irregularities. 
'It's about my brother,' she said slowly, completely unaware of the way his eyes burrowed into her lip.
'There are no returns.' His voice took on that quality that let mourners know his words were final and that arguing, in this scenario, would be entirely pointless.
'It's not about a return, sir, it's just...there's been a mistake.'
And the girl was wrong, for there were never any mistakes, not here. There was no one alive to make the mistakes, and the absence of humanity seemed to cut down the chance for most error.
'A mistake?' The master's voice was playful, he'd decided he would bind his time with this one, keep things interesting. 'You dare come here and tell me there has been a mistake in my kingdom?'
He raised one thin eyebrow at the girl, but right at that moment, something seemed to shift inside her head. The eyebrow didn't have its' usual effect and the girl didn't so much as flinch.
'Yes,' she went on, meeting his gaze head-on. 'You see, I'm not supposed to be here, sir, my brother is.'
The master indulged her with a smile, but his patience  grew thin. He'd gone through this dialogue many times in his eternity in the rocking chair.
'I'm afraid that is not how it works. You are here because you were deemed responsible.'
He was getting ready to point a finger and have her removed. He could feel one of the shadows at his foot, lurking ready to lunge into attack. Yet the girl wouldn't budge.
'I know everyone says this, but I'm really not supposed to be here. The day my brother died, something went wrong, sir, it was supposed to be me instead of him.'

The master opened his mouth to tell her, for the last time, that she was just wasting his time and that she was no different from the millions stacked at the door behind her. But something stopped him. He recalled the stench that the girl seemed to emanate and with one smooth wave of his hand, he gestured for her to go on. 

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***to be continued***

### Inspired by @mariannewest's prompt 'retirement'.


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