A candle flickered before him as he sat at his desk recording the events of his extraordinary day. Scratch scratch, quill on vellum.
“I entered a darkened room whereupon I was made to sit perfectly still whilst retaining breath in my lungs. A fellow stood behind a three-legged contraption, flung a black sheet over his head and bent forward. In one hand he held a peculiar device on a stick. Suddenly, the wretched thing flashed brightly billowing acrid smoke into the air. I was near blinded and almost choked to death”.
He paused briefly to ponder the future.
“Will the artist be no longer be required? Are machines to replace his brush and palette? If so how is he to earn his shilling? Perhaps in time, we will no longer be required to think for ourselves, calculate or investigate. Maybe even my trusty pen will become redundant”.
He sighed, and a drop of ink fell from the quill as if shedding a tear for the present which would too soon become the past.
Word count 172
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers which is hosted by Priceless Joy. The photo is provided by Goroyboy. I have taken the liberty of increasing the size of the quill in my story!