A king betrayed
a bastard heir
best plans are laid
at the foot of despair
as the hand rises
with words from the king
to claim the throne
in the name of his kin
while cloaks of gold
should prove unworthy
a daughter’s love
as she pleads for mercy
contrived confession
repent! repent!
as the bastard king cries
bring me his head
Quick writing exercise. Same story from two viewpoints.
Today was a horrible day. I just wanted to jump into the spring and feel the water hit my head and surround my body. I threw my shirt down near the edge of the water and dove in. The water was just the right temperature — not too hot or too cold. Spring was the best time for swimming in the Midlands. I let out a sigh of relief as I stood under the waterfall. I had thought about praying. Praying to Kren — the god of prosperity, Šay — the god of mercy, or Wûr — the god of war. My father was having a hard time in his shop ever since mother died of the pox last year. He could barely bring himself to lift a hammer. Ward and I tried to help but he tossed every blade we forged — “Not good enough”, he’d grumble. Maybe I could pray for war. The army would need swords and armor; maybe father could hire some help with the extra money coming in. Before I could get settled I heard someone calling my name. “Ten!”, a voice shouted. I stepped out from under the waterfall and could see my brother standing at the edge of the spring. “What?”, I shouted back. “Banners!”, was all he could get out. He seemed excited and out of breath. “Banners?”, I shouted back, not quite understanding. “Yes, banners!”, he said as he handed me my shirt. I dressed quickly and followed him up a hill to the south of the spring. “See”, he said, pointing at the horde of men-at-arms and knights marching down the King’s highway.
“The King has called his banners. We’re going to war.”
War. I thought to myself. Maybe the gods really are listening.
Today was a horrible day. Ten just wanted to jump into the spring and feel the water hit his head and surround his body. He threw his shirt down near the edge of the water and dove in. The water was just the right temperature — not too hot or too cold. Spring was the best time for swimming in the Midlands. He let out a sigh of relief as he stood under the waterfall. He had thought about praying. Praying to Kren — the god of prosperity, Šay — the god of mercy, or Wûr — the god of war. Ten’s father was having a hard time in his shop ever since his mother died of the pox last year. He could barely bring himself to lift a hammer. Ten and his brother tried to help, but their father tossed every blade they forged — “Not good enough”, he’d grumble. Maybe I could pray for war, Ten thought to himself. The army would need swords and armor; maybe his father could even hire some help with the extra money coming in. Before Ten could get settled he heard someone calling his name. “Ten!”, a voice shouted. He stepped out from under the waterfall and could see his brother standing at the edge of the spring. “What?”, he shouted back. “Banners!”, was all Ward could get out. He seemed excited and out of breath. “Banners?”, Ten shouted back, not quite understanding. “Yes, banners!”, Ward replied as he handed Ten his shirt. Ten dressed quickly and followed his brother up a hill to the south of the spring. “See”, Ward said, pointing at the horde of men-at-arms and knights marching down the King’s highway.
“The King has called his banners. We’re going to war.”
War. Ten thought to himself. Maybe the gods really are listening.
your lips cut like razors
my mouth bleeds when you kiss me
distant hearts grow cold
in the arms of another
we try to forget
what it was like
to be (to be alone)
and I’d whisper in your ear
love is danger
a risk i’m not willing to take