Drabble Wednesday: Nasty Things

Today on Drabble Wednesday, take a journey to the darkest underbellies of worlds beyond this realm...

Assassin

The oblique glances, the careful sidestep to avoid me on the street.

I see it. I see it all.

They are afraid. As well they should be, for I could snuff out their pitiful lives with ease. I am the creature society shuns, the thing those supposed upstanding denizens consider undesirable.

Until they need me.

Then they slink into my presence to toss their gold at my feet and give me the names of those they want killed. They hire their assassin and I do my work.

Then I kill the true undesired and drink my fill of their blood.

~*~

Imagined Things

Skitters in the shadows, incoherent whispers lost in the dark wind, thumps that make you walk faster, have you casting glances into the night. You scoff, while shivering. Your pulse races as you scold yourself. Only in your imagination. Not real. Just the mind playing tricks.

What if it isn’t in your head?

What if something truly lurks in the dark?

Because we do.

Bumps, bangs, and bogeymen. Skulking, creeping, coming out to play when the sun goes down.

We are behind you. Following you.

Waiting for the right moment.

And you won’t be going home tonight.

Or ever again.

~*~

The Ruling Elite

Everyone falls from grace. Sooner or later.

Riding high one day and in the gutter the next. I’ve seen them all.

The nature of this cesspool kingdom. Kings and queens think they can hold on to their power, but it don’t last. They lose their grip on the crown and they’re gone. And someone else’s ass is sitting on the throne. Until they get the boot. Or the ax.

Yeah, they all fall out of favour.

Or get pushed.

That’s where I come in. My specialty that.

For the right amount of gold.

A gal’s got to make a living.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Kings and Commoners

Today on Drabble Wednesday, we go medieval...

Warning: today’s post gets a bit icky.

Boy in the Kitchens

Turn the spit, turn the spit, turn the spit.

Alfred watched the meat sizzle, and cranked the handle round and round. Day after day, he sat, stared, and spun the roast.

“You boy! At the spit! We’ve a new job for you!”

Alfred looked up with glee, and eagerly relinquished his place to another kitchen lad. The royal butcher ushered him into a back pantry.

“Sorry boy, but the king wants special meat for his supper.”

Poor Alfred never saw the cleaver fall. 

Come supper, another boy sat watching the sizzling meat that used to be Alfred.

Turn the spit.

~*~

Vantage Point

The old room atop the temple held the perfect view of the queen’s procession route.

He watched her horse drawn, open carriage meandering its way up the street.

He took his time, lined up his bow, and let the arrow fly.

The projectile pierced the queen’s chest, and she crumpled like a doll.

The assassin patted his purse. The payment of the king's gold rattled with a beautiful sound, and he chuckled with proud satisfaction. Then he stepped over the body of the snooping priest he killed, snuck down the back stairs onto the street, and disappeared into the crowd.

~*~

King’s Decree

Arabella stared at her reflection in the mirror, tucking a stray lock of hair into place. She applied red colour to her lips and cheeks. She mustn’t appear sallow on this day. Her audience with the king.

How lives turn on the will of that man.

She appraised her appearance. She looked thinner than a few months ago, but not gaunt. That was good. The newest royal concubine best not look sickly.

Can I do this?

She closed her eyes, taking a breath.

You don’t have a choice. You lost the rebellion. You become his, or die like your husband.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Kings and Queens

Today on Drabble Wednesday we hobnob with royalty. Be careful or it could be off with your head…

Dark Queen Rising

She smiled, this bride of the crown prince, and placed a finger under the wine merchant’s chin. “Would you like a kiss as reward for your service?” Without waiting for an answer the raven-haired beauty kissed him, the flavour of plum and deadly magic on her lips.

The man’s last moments in the realm of the living were of bliss and a woman’s touch.

The Crown Prince emerged from his shadowed concealment, clapping. “Well done, my love. You’re certain the poisoned wine’s been delivered?”

“Oh yes. The king will drink his last tonight, and this fool will take the blame.”

~*~

Madness Reigns

In front of the throne, the bloodied bodies of his four sons sprawled across the marble floor, staining the alabaster crimson. The king surveyed his carnage, the sword in his hand still wet and red with mortality. The fingers of his other hand clutched an eldritch rune, the cause of this murderous rampage against his heirs.

A moan broke the silence of the room; one youth clung to life. With a crooked smile plastered on his face, the king moved to his living son and drew his blade across his throat. The moaning ceased in a gurgling cry of death...

(This drabble is also a snippet from a book idea I’m working on.)

~*~

The Decision

Choose an heir. Name you successor.

This was the refrain his advisors whispered in his ear.

So here he sat on his throne, his family waiting patiently.

The king looked upon his three sons with displeasure and regret. None of this trio could be called worthy, none had achieved, well, anything.

His eldest, Eric, drowned his days in wine, his brother Karl spent his hours on his knees in prayer, and Stavros looked to bed every wife in the kingdom.

Yes, his sons were disappointments.

He had no choice.

“I name Katarina, Crown Princess of the Realm as my heir.”

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved