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

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Siobhan Muir's Thursday Threads 

Alone

Alone

"All things come to he who waits" she used to say to him.

He was cold, tired and wet. It smelled bad in here. The noises outside rang in his ears and made his head hurt.   

He felt for Babbit but his hand touched something sharp. He tried not to cry.

“Big boys don’t cry.” She used to say to him.

It started to rain and it sounded like he was inside a tin drum.

“Stop banging that damned drum!” she used to say to him.

He peered over the lip of the dumpster.

She was gone. What else was he to do but wait?

___

105 Words

@nickjohns999

 This was written for Thursday Threads 38