The Perils of Mistranslation

We’d misread the prophecy, you see.

We thought he’d devour the planet, consuming all in his path and leaving nothing in his wake.

And, as he approached, panic swept the nations of earth.

But we were mistaken. Such a small error, one letter, but with such massive implications.

We should have been relieved at this, but all we could do was stare at one another in mute horror.

We were safe, but at greater cost than we would ever be able to properly express.

We’d never express anything, not ever again.

Because Gargaxia, the Eater of Words, had finally arrived…

Words

We spoke about economy of language, but no one knew what it meant until the word supply began to run low.

Spoken, written or thought, there were no longer words enough for our unending need to express ourselves.

Rationing was instituted, and for a period we, the Drabblers, were stars. We, who did so much with so little, were the last, best hope of literary endeavour, and our works were celebrated.

But even with rationing, our word supply dwindled. We switched to Twabbles, and published with less frequency.

And when the words finally ran out, all we could do was