Jacque had been three days without food and a month without bathing. He could not remember when he’d last slept, nor did he care. These had ceased to be important.
Finding the first blood-hued ruby had been an accident, the second ecstasy, the third and final had merely stoked the already blazing obsession.
“Hi ho, hi ho, hi ho hum,” he sang to himself. “Dig dig dig dig, dig dig dig...”
Clothes long turned to rags, pickax to splinters, mind to madness, Jacque painted with red as he scraped at the ground with torn nubs in search of number four.
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