Thursday, 10 January 2013

The Snare

The Snare

Now, as I prepare to burn, I hear her, see her; I am content.
I am condemned. There is but one verdict.
The hood prevents me from facing my accusers, but I know them, hear their petty vengeance.
They seize me, bind me with iron, fearful even yet of my abilities.
I slide to the ground, nose in the rotting mulch. I hear the vengeful mob approaching.
Her cries echo across the valley, trumpeting her transcendent escape.
With my last strength, I free her; watch her soar above the verdant canopy, free at last.
I cast the perilous enchantment, fighting to control the energies I have raised.
All is prepared.
I gather my courage and summon my power.
Dare I do this thing?
I must act. This bondage of beauty is monstrous.
I see her agony, encased in a faerie cage.
She flickers and flashes, ever on the edge of sight, sparkling like spray from a waterfall caught in a sunbeam; eternal, ethereal, ensorcelled.
My heart sings as I hear her voice; a resonance of souls.
The first time I met her was in the woods

186 words

This story was written for Siobhan Muir's Thursday Threads 

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