The Snare

The Snare

Now, as I prepare to burn, I hear her, see her; I am content.

I am condemned. There is but one verdict.

The hood prevents me from facing my accusers, but I know them, hear their petty vengeance.

They seize me, bind me with iron, fearful even yet of my abilities.

I slide to the ground, nose in the rotting mulch. I hear the vengeful mob approaching.

Her cries echo across the valley, trumpeting her transcendent escape.

With my last strength, I free her; watch her soar above the verdant canopy, free at last.

I cast the perilous enchantment, fighting to control the energies I have raised.

All is prepared.

I gather my courage and summon my power.

Dare I do this thing?

I must act. This bondage of beauty is monstrous.

I see her agony, encased in a faerie cage.

She flickers and flashes, ever on the edge of sight, sparkling like spray from a waterfall caught in a sunbeam; eternal, ethereal, ensorcelled.

My heart sings as I hear her voice; a resonance of souls.

The first time I met her was in the woods

186 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Siobhan Muir's Thursday Threads