This week my lovely sister and I will Give the villain a sympathetic moment. To view the full glory of her thoughts, please click here.
Give the Villain a Sympathetic Moment
With a good deal of grunting and cursing and of course that retched sound of iron being dropped onto stone, a portcullis crashed behind them and the coin purse was opened. It was still night and Miss Borka’s eyes seemed to be indigo in the darkness. She gripped Bomsomella around the waist and held her up toward the dark sky. “This faery’s boundary be one mile. If she doth choose to cross it, may her way be thwarted by an invisible dome and her body returned to within 12 inches of my person.” When making bold statements that effected the magical destiny of another, out dated pronunciation was necessary.
There was a long silence. Of course Bomomella’s grandmother had been forced to endure a boundry of 3 feet, which when enslaved to a skunk farmer… But nonetheless it was a boundry. Miss Borka opened her hand so that Bosomella was sitting on her palm. She crossed the courtyard and entered the dark cooridors of the castle through a massive stone arch. A narrow spiral of steps wound upwards until they stood in the entry of a small tower room.
The floor was a mosaic of river stone, smooth and cool. The walls were the same, but the natural roughness of the rock remained. Two tapestries hung on the walls. Scenes of faerys eating sugared thimbleberries and playing backgammen in the branches of an ancient oak. And there in the corner set up against the far wall was the largest doll house she had ever seen. Everything was real. Tiny rugs scattered the floors, miniture torches flickered from their wall scounces, velvet draped an elegant canopied bed, and a tiny kettle hung over the fire sending up a fragrant whisp of steam.
“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were suddenly wet with emotion but beneith the tears lay pure stone. Miss Borka closed them and knelt, gently setting Bosomella next to a gleeming cherrywood armouir. Then she turned and limped from the room, back straight and fists clenched at her sides.
3 thoughts on “Writing Pilates”
sweet. liking it very much! I am also praying for your family.
You made me wonder why Miss Borka had tears. There is a big picture that we haven’t seen yet. Hummmmmm. My mind goes to our big picture in life that we cannot see, can only trust that God is the one who not only sees it but makes it wonderful and purposeful to His glory.
Love to you.