Goblet of Mercy
The Kept Promise
They picked me out of a bunch, took me in, gave me a home. They spoke of pristine promises and light without the flame. I forged their every move, worshiped them, drained for them. I did as much as my human flesh could endure. As I laid upon my king's lap, tired and brittle, I drank from the goblet of mercy. The next day I am to be destined as more than this vessel; I am to be a queen.
About the Creator
Ashley Wrigley
The truth can be covered by words of fiction and rhyme. However, if you dig deep enough to the core you might be amazed what truths you will find inside.
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Drum of the Door. Honorable Mention in A Knock at the Door Challenge.
I thought I was alone, but the drum of the door is loud in the quiet. My ears must pardon as it is not the door's fault. What a wooden beauty. Deep red and polished it stands locked and latched to the frame. It almost allows a person to stare at it all day, get blissfully lost, and call themselves an art enthusiast. Almost. Oh how that door has saved me. So many times that pounding of the drum has come and gone, sticks of great force and human flesh. Yet I have remained safe inside. However, this instance has the little hairs on my back trying to flee. No three knocks separated by a short intermission, no knocking in a combination, no secret knock, no single confident knock, and no muffled screaming to get my attention. This time the order is horrendous, and the hits dramatically increase and decrease in intensity with no tell. Why are they not aborting this attempt? I tiptoe over to the wooden beauty. It is as if the door is unsteady and pushing itself farther from me, and my heart can't take the pace. What lurks beyond?
By Ashley Wrigley3 months ago in Fiction
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