#1394

In my dreams the sorceress circles me, matted black hair and needles in her hands, they’ve been dipped in a poison far more fatal than Snow White’s, and I am calling for you as I move to keep the witch in my sights, she lunges but I catch her wrists and we struggle for dominance, the little metal slivers inching ever closer to my flesh until with a surge of defiance I hurl her back, enough to rock her on her feet and before she can close with me again you appear out of nowhere, sword in hand, and the sorceress’ head goes rolling off her shoulders–

–and then we are standing together, her and I, the sorceress resurrected, and she is showing me a sleeping kingdom wrapped in magic and thorns, a kingdom like her own which she offers to me, a gift, my very own land to rule as I wish, yet she is old and weak and I see this is her last attempt, she knows she can’t slay me but thinks maybe she can lure me away with promises of power and beauty, away from you whom I love so deeply, but I only scoff at her bribery and wake to seek you in a world where, too, the witches strive to part us yet never succeed.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s