Paving Potter

Horace “Paving” Potter was the most feared and respected man in the whole town.

When people spoke to him they spoke respectfully. When they spoke of him they spoke quietly.

Horace wasn't rich, or a criminal, or even a politician. But he did know all of these.

You see, Paving Potter was just that, a paver for the city that had laid nearly all the streets in town.

And once you knew that, you knew where his power resided.

You see, he didn't know just what it took lay every city street. He knew who was buried beneath them.

Something To Do

Bored, Trevor started to focus on the problems with pressure in his head. It wasn't so much like a vice, but a metal band slowly squeezing inside his skill. 

The doctor couldn't find anything, gave him a placebo, and sent him home. The pills didn't help with the pressure, or the visions. But at least it got him out of the house, and gave him something to tell people in the forum.

Eventually, he learned to live with it, just like the ringing ears, aching jaw, and vertigo. 

It was something he could deal with until the last day when he was on a rare trip outside, and right there on the sidewalk his head imploded.

Those nearby only heard the sound of grinding bone and splatting blood.

A crowd slowly formed around the sprawled body of Trevor, his headless neck spurting brown blood onto the dirty sidewalk.