Today on Drabble Wednesday we shed a tear - in rain, in plague, in envy…
Tears of the Moon
The shadow moon rose among the gathering clouds, its grey form stark against the sombre sky. Her eyes watched its climb, a scream lodged in her throat, her palms pressed forcefully on the window pane. Each breath came shallow, held for a fraction of time, hoping for his appearance.
Why did he have to go? Why tonight? He said he would return in time. But he’s not home.
A single tear fell, hitting the window sill. A matching water drop struck the outside of the glass.
The rains are coming.
The Old Gods will awaken.
And they will be hungry.
Grief of the Dead
Jeff hurried through the deserted streets. The plague seemly died out in their neighbourhood, but he didn’t wish to linger outside. It didn’t take much, and it didn’t take long. It was a risk, but they needed food. The possibility of dying was better than listening to Ryan’s sad cries.
He pushed open the front door. His son lay on the floor. His wife knelt beside him. Something felt wrong.
“He’s dead.” His wife turned.
Jeff gasped. He dropped the scavenged bag of groceries.
Diseased, white, tear stained eyes stared at him. Blood covered her mouth.
A thick, sooty tear, the consistency of tar oozed down her cheek, and he collected it in the vial. He watched for a moment as she slept, her breathing even, her face peaceful. She suspected nothing of his spell. He’d be flayed alive if she did.
He left to his workshop, mixed her tear into a potion and took his weekly dose of her magic. Soon, he’d drain her dry and these nightly visits would end. He’d miss them. He’d miss her.
But only one evil wizard could prevail in this tower, and he was tired of being her apprentice.
© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved