And there he rots in the deepest, dankest, darkest cell in the dungeon. Ball and iron on screwed on more tightly than it would for any other prisoner- the King personally ensured that. He is not an ordinary convict- he is guilty of the highest crime imaginable against God or Man, or at least against the King. He dared fall in love with the Queen, and send her poems of love.
Stupid boy. If he had stopped at warming my bed, we could both have been so happy. Will I ever find another who makes me as happy in bed?
_____
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Image credit - Aleatha Ingleton
7 comments:
Rayna - Oh, now that's a marvellous story! What a chilling ending and as always, you say so much with so few elegant words! Love it!
A tragic love story. Makes you wonder so many things. Rayna, once again you have spurred the mind to think and create.
Mason
Thoughts in Progress
That's sad.
So much life in so small a space.
Nice. Would love to see that expanded into a full story.
Ooh, I want to know what happens next! Nice depths, there!
@ Margot - thank you. This story was literally written in 10 minutes or less, because the story that was supposed to appear did not :-(
Guess I must have been thinking about it for much longer.
@ Mason - thank you. The photograph is evocative, isn't it?
@ Alex - it is. Very.
@ Mary - *grins*
@ Tina - not happening. Have too many stories to write, and not enough time. This is unlikely to be one of them.
@ Faith - tag you are It. Why don't you finish the story?
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