The Kiln's Verdict

I commissioned a recluse sculptor to create a masterpiece set titled 'The Warden and His Prisoners'—one large porcelain guard meant to suppress a hundred tiny, chaotic figures. The first crate arrived with the hundred Prisoners intact, each face twisted in mockery. But the Warden was missing—just a pile of crushed dust in the center. I demanded a remake. The second crate arrived today. This time, the Prisoners are all gone. Only the Warden stands in the box. But he is wrong. He is twice the size I ordered, his torso distended and bloated, the glaze a feverish, heavy red. I picked him up and nearly dropped him. Beneath the translucent, cooling glaze of his swollen belly, I can see a hundred tiny, screaming faces swirling slowly, pressing against the porcelain skin from the inside.