Poisioned

whiskeybottle

Marie entered the palace with an offering  for continued protection from the Kings, an offering of the finest whiskey from the apothecary shoppe. The vast entry hall was adorned with early art and  badges of  battles victories from floor to ceiling. Marie gazed in wonder at the flawless specimen of man positioned next to a tapestry of the Elvin Wars. Marie wondered which of the kings had posed for the sculpture. Surely these powerful men,  commanding a powerful army, must also be handsome Marie thought as she continued towards the throne room.

“Who goes there?” Demanded the king on the left, a large man clad in all red shoveling cakes into his mouth. He was definitely not the sculptor’s model.

“It is I, Marie, I come with a preemptive offering from the Apothecary asking for your reinvestment in the shoppe.” Marie managed to squeak out.

She must have said something wrong, because the kings looked from one another and began to whisper in bewildered tones. As the hushed conversation continued ever longer, Marie got up the nerve to quietly ask the Kings, “Excuse me?”

The king on the right, a tall thin man, clad in all blue with a mess of a mullet, answered, “We do not understand how, but we demand that you relinquish this disguise and use no further magic in our presence witch!”

“I assure you gentlemen your claim is unsubstantiated. I am using no magic to disguise myself, I am but a humble apprentice whom the apothecary shoppe keeper sent with this offering for you,” Marie answered his claim quietly but with confidence. She had nothing to hide, but was now wondering if the old witch was trying to double cross her. The kings’ response was to what she expected. “Why did they think she was disguised. Who did they think she was.”

The Red King pressing on, “If that be the case, then you’ll be the first to taste the offering,” instructed from the left throne.

“Ok,”Marie agreed nervously as she opened the bottle of whiskey and took a swig.

As she fell, the King, clad in White, sitting in  in the middle thrown who had remained silent, rushed to catch her. Marie’s last sight was of the tall, broad shouldered, clean shaven King  who had most definitely been the sculptor’s muse. However, Marie  the sculpture was unable to capture the song the King’s blue eyes sang. Marie knew it was love at first sight, or maybe last sight.

The White  King inspected the puddled whiskey next to Marie, “Poisoned,” he confirmed. He knew the other Kings would want to get rid of her, but something deep inside his soul, told him the beauty in his arms was not to the mastermind behind this. Perhaps he could convince the others and save her life as well.

“She said she was an apprentice, perhaps we can learn from her who after us.” The White King said to his compatriots.

“You really think she will side with us,” The Blue King relied.

“I will make her see that there is no other option,” the White King resolved.

“The see to it,I have other thing to attend to,” the Red King ordered as he waddled off to the kitchen leaving the White King to tend to Marie.

 

Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #297

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Story A Day Sept 22: Twister

Carrianne tried to cover the bruises the best she could. Her tears falling like the raindrops that began platter on the tiny bathroom window. Carrianne prayed to her mama in heaven that the storm would wake the monster passed out on the couch as she quietly turned on the radio. The weatherman said a twister was on the way. Carrianne tripped over the whisky bottles gathering blankets and water to the cellar.

Soaked from the rain, Carrianne tried to wake her father to for them to take shelter from the storm. He was passed out in drunken stupor, deadened to the world. There was no way she could carry him out to the cellar. Carrianne ran back out into the wind and ran towards the cellar, calling out to the dog, who was more bruised and beaten. She closed the cellar do behind her and the dog as the hail began to berate the earth.

Carrianne huddle in the back of the shelter with the frighted pup under a mound of blankets praying to her mama in heaven to let them live through the storm. Wind howled. Mother Nature unleashed a furious twister that scored the earth, shattering glass, splintering wood, upending trees. Debris pelted the cellar door. Then all was silent. Until the earth screamed in pain one last time.

Carrianne opened the cellar door to find nothing but clear skies. No house, no more monster.