The Stitcher—The Sewing Machine That Kills
- Rick
- Feb 23
- 1 min read
Updated: Mar 6
It was meant to heal. It prefers to harvest.
Beneath Yarnia’s Hall of Crafting, past the spools of tradition and the looms of legacy, The Stitcher waits. It was meant to be a miracle—sewing warriors back together mid-battle, threading wounds shut before the body had time to protest. But something in the design snagged. It stopped distinguishing between flesh and fabric, between a soldier in need and material to be used. The last person who tested it became inventory. A perfect spool, wound tight, labeled with his own name. No one turns it on. Not anymore. The last scientist who tried spent three days convincing himself his hands hadn’t itched to touch the needle. The Stitcher does not call. It does not move. It simply waits. Because someday, someone will sit down. And it will finish the job.
The Friendly Robot Travel Agency offers front-row seats to the quiet horror. Just don’t touch it. Or do. We’ll make sure your thread is labeled.
Wishbone Cost:
Rick’s Review:
"Watched it hum, saw the needle twitch, and left before it could take an interest. If I ever get brave enough to sit down, make sure they use me for something nice."