The Hanging Court

The brave, the prickly, and the mildly allergic attempt to navigate aisle politics

Prickle did not look back. Partly because it was brave. Mostly because it had no neck.

It could still hear the candles in the back but as it rolled onwards, the dramatic hissing and cackling died down gradually.

Its needles clicked softly against the wooden floor and for a little while, that was the only sound—well, until a rug that hadn’t been in that c…