“So,” Alice asked, waving the plush green toy up and down in front of his face, “what do you think?”
“Will I ever be free of stain of Universal?” Adam replied in his deep, faltering voice. “Or shall that image be a pestilence upon me until the end of time?”
“That’s what you get for not setting the record straight,” she said, “and letting them just go on making their silly monster movies.” She looked at the toy and smiled. “I think it looks cute.”
“Then there,” Adam said, “you see their first mistake, for none could look upon my terrible visage and think me… cute.”
Adam stepped forward and light spilled over his misshapen features: over scars that had never healed right, skin that had an unnatural hew and seemed to be stretched too tightly over too large a frame. Yet in his gleaming eyes, there was a depth, a sadness, an intelligence that went beyond any other’s. He was his master’s creation: still there, long after his master was ash scattered over arctic ice.
“I don’t know about none,” Alice replied, draping her arms over his shoulders. “In fact, I can think of one exception.”
Word Count: 197
This is for Sunday Photo Fiction!