Something was clearly wrong because for the past week Nigel had been startled from uneasy dreams by the sound of a little Stormtrooper jigging at an easel on his bedside table.
‘Lego, Lego. Turn away and blast the door, I don’t care what they’re going to say. Let this Stormtrooper out. The war never bothered me anyway!’ It pirouetted, flicked its tiny brush, and splattered Nigel with invisible ink.
Nigel wiped his face, ignored the hallucination, settled back into his uneasy dreams, and felt relieved when the familiar clop of the goatmen’s hooves and their bleating woke him later that morning as they unfastened his straps and served him his usual breakfast of fish heads and tails.
Thanks to Sonya for organising and coordinating these three line tales each week.