The heavy fog of dark smoke clouded the air, blocking out all light from the sky. Ash and dust sprinkled down like rain only this time, it was the ruins of my once beloved city. Bodies after bodies, the streets were filled from top to bottom with lifeless men. I, however, was still stuck in my room, watching the horror play out before me. A subtle creak sounded behind me, and before I knew it, I was being dragged down to my death. The creature carrying me by the arm smelled of horrendous body odor and had fangs that stuck out of his mouth like a sore thumb. “Excuse me sir, do you know where we are going?” I questioned, poking at it’s muscular calf. It grunted, but it did not respond. That’s irritating, I thought to myself. Suddenly, I was tossed
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“I’ll do anything.” “Anything?” the king asked. “You can have my daughter, Lady Clarice,” my fake mother stammered out. The king turned to me and sighed. I could tell the cogs in his mind were turning. “Why?” he turned back to the duchess, arms crossed. “Because she is very desired, the Duke of Hale even requested her to be a consort as soon as she turned of age,” she explained, lying through her teeth. The king contemplated this offer for a while, pacing the grounds before swiveling back around to face us. “I have made a decision”. I will take your daughter for my son and I will spare you and a person of your choice,” he offered. The “Fine” is a. I will select James, my son, to survive,” she said without hesitation. “Very well,” he said, turning to his right hand. “Slit all their throats except those three.” “Yes, your Majesty,” the man said, drawing his sword. I was guided to a white horse covered in mud and sand. I was then hoisted up and I seated myself in the saddle. The king mounted on to his horse and kicked into it’s side before leading us away. I was free to go. Free from the abuse that I experienced from my stepmother. Free from the maids who let it happen. Free to live my own
“I’ll do anything.” “Anything?” the king asked. “You can have my daughter, Lady Clarice,” my fake mother stammered out. The king turned to me and sighed. I could tell the cogs in his mind were turning. “Why?” he turned back to the duchess, arms crossed. “Because she is very desired, the Duke of Hale even requested her to be a consort as soon as she turned of age,” she explained, lying through her teeth. The king contemplated this offer for a while, pacing the grounds before swiveling back around to face us. “I have made a decision”. I will take your daughter for my son and I will spare you and a person of your choice,” he offered. The “Fine” is a. I will select James, my son, to survive,” she said without hesitation. “Very well,” he said, turning to his right hand. “Slit all their throats except those three.” “Yes, your Majesty,” the man said, drawing his sword. I was guided to a white horse covered in mud and sand. I was then hoisted up and I seated myself in the saddle. The king mounted on to his horse and kicked into it’s side before leading us away. I was free to go. Free from the abuse that I experienced from my stepmother. Free from the maids who let it happen. Free to live my own