The White Clad Figure

It leered at the large white clad figure through close-set immovable pillars. Its reddened eyes shot darts of guilt and mercy through the roofless walls of gray columns. The white figure passed above with a clear tube of liquid in hand. The figure let the tube slip from its grasp and shatter on the distant floor.

The white one began to make very strange and dissonant noises and water poured forth from its close-set eyes. The figure ran out of the immense room and did not return.

It tried to scurry out through the pillars and failed, again. It was very hungry and tired, but dared not to fall asleep for fear of the pricking sensation dealt out by the white figure. It evaluated that the white-one had fled and was gone for quite awhile now. Sleep greedily stole into its mind. It slept.

A jab, prick and flood woke it. The clear tube was connected to a white clad arm of the white-clad figure who had fled before. The figure had an arm flung over its red and damp eyes and shook with its sobs. The figure's mouth was wide with a smirk of superiority.

It felt relief as the prick left its side and blackness filled its eyes and its lungs turned to fire. The figure laughed as the small one kicked its last breath. It laughed at the figure's continuing doomed life.