2 Conversations

Just imagine, all those little wooden farm sheds. All those trees needed. All the time to cut down those trees. Something needed that was so sharp. To cut the trees.
A wire. All you do is wrap it round the tree. Then pull. Tree is cut. So simple I cannot believe I did not think of it myself. But, my God, I did.
So there lies the basis for my story. True, it shall be short, but terrible; so terrible in fact, that I suggest you read this with your gas lamps on. That is, if you dare read it at all.

As you have read before, my invention was startlingly brilliant. I knew I would be heralded as a genius. Of course, my nostrils had already caught the divine smell of money, I could taste the fine wine and luscious food that would be brought forth to my lips.
It was in the reign of our beloved Queen Victoria. My invention was complete. A long strand of wire, six whole feet. You must understand, testing a finished product is a highly lengthy process. I had at my disposal several saplings. Young and green.
I picked up the wire using some thick tweezers. To use human flesh to handle it would be carnivorous. I slowly began to draw it towards the sapling. It appeared to fly towards it. The sapling was cut. So effortlessly even I was amazed. I knew my invention was a shining example of brilliance, but this, this was positively glowing! My mother, darling Rebecca, had never thought I would amount to much. "Bertie,"she used to say. "Bertie, you are quite simply an utter disgrace to this family." But now, now she would excel herself as the doting mother, so proud of her wonderful son. I could hear her voice now, "I always knew he would go far, Bertie had such a clever, almost godly look in his eyes when he was born."
I could picture the fine ladies that would clamour for my attention, dance attendance, pamper to my every whim. Naturally, I had always been a good catch, but now my greatest difficulty would be which angel to float down the aisle with. Perhaps good old Queen Victoria would change the law for me, and allow me to marry them all.
But my fantastical dreams were soon to be dashed. To everything there is a season, and the wires season was winter. Cold and chilling, a time when animals fight for survival. A fight which I would soon take up.
The apparent thrill of causing a person's demise has never taken hold of me. Not so my once faithful colleague. I call myself "Doctor" Robert Westington, known to family and friends as Bertie. My best friend was Doctor Richard Featherson. He and I worked together in this laboratory.
Richard was interested in medicine. I earned my bread and butter through this also, but my real passion was inventing. I really wish this wasn't so. For the wire was to cut off friendships and cause the downfall of Richard.
Although why I am upset at this I do not know, Richard lied to me, stole from me. I set out to kill a tree, and I ended up killing Richard.
Richard had never had a reason to be jealous of me. He was the one with the richest parents, he got given the A* in exams. Richard landed on his feet more times than I care to remember. I was thus immensely proud of my wonderful creation. :I told Richard of it, showed him how the wire cut through the sapling. I even let him use the wire on a sapling himself. Quite possibly the biggest mistake I will ever make.
Richard was suitably impressed with my invention. Knowing him to be a wise man I asked him whether he thought the world would be ready for such a thing. "Oh yes," he said, "quite ready! But, perhaps you ought to spend some time perfecting it, before it is patented." I agreed wholeheartedly and decided to make the journey from London, where the laboratory was, to York, where my parents lived. I wanted to show the wire to my father. Realising that six feet of wire was rather a lot to travel with, I melted it in half. Off I went to York, with my three feet of wire, and one of the four saplings.
It was months later when I returned. I noticed that the saplings and the wire had vanished from the laboratory. Richard assured me that they were safe, locked in a cupboard that only Richard had a key to. He turned up the next morning with one of the saplings. I was to go and start the patenting on my wire that morning.
That morning I found out the depth of Richard's treachery. My wire could not be patented. A man had already done so. The man's name...Doctor Richard Featherson.
I flew to the laboratory such was my rage at Richard. My best friend? Oh, when I got my hands on him...!Richard was waiting for me.
We argued, the things we said, never did less Christian words spill out of my mouth. All of a sudden a cold gleam came into Richard's eyes. Everything went deadly quiet. I noticed that the thick tweezers were in Richard's hands. He was picking up the wire! He walked towards me. I backed away. Richard's legs sped up. I saw a pillar to my right. I ran towards it. Richard held the wire forward, but missed my throat as I darted behind the cold stone pillar. The sound of wire hitting stone reverberated in my ears. Then a scream, which seemed to expand inside my head. The wire had rebounded from the pillar to go straight through Richard's throat. As his head fell to the floor my thoughts were so sharp!
The cutter cut, defeated by his own heart's substance. Vengeance is mine, and may my season be spring.

Bertie Westington

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