From Old Shall a New Era Now Dawn

With a breath I reach out and with trembling limbs I grasp those golden armrests with such fervor I momentarily fear that they will snap off in my hands. The throne’s velvet cushioning is faded and worn, no longer soft to the touch, but not a single tear is evident. I chuckle as my fingers drift, brushing lightly over the fabric, reverent of the object I’ve found again though with all reverence lost for he who sat upon it an age ago.

Triumph.

It fills my chest and bursts forth from my very being, insurmountable joy.

I turn to sit, grinning, and I know that I must look absolutely mad with pleasure. I drum my fingers against those armrests as I lean back and survey the toppled room from this rediscovered throne, my throne.

So long ago he ran me out. He ran me out, unloved and uncared for, but, oh, how the tables have turned. My father, the king, with his blood soaked boots and glinting eyes is long dead. His palace, the place of my birth and ...

A woman shouts to be saved.
The corridor walls outside my apartment door vibrate with each bullet-like word shot from her mouth. They ricochet from one wall to the next until they strike my eardrum. A beat of hi-hats, snares, and toms plays. But she is the villain. I believe she is masquerading as the victim, and he sees her through striped, colored glasses. I believe she has fooled them.

The men in blue said, "Poor little lamb, who hurt you?"

But the hermit man lets her play her tricks. Who would believe a man with no wit? He chose solitude, and yet here he stands once again, bullets in his heart, for the scorned woman has played her man.

‘They Say’
They say that on this eve there is a sort of magic in the air, the sort that gives a voice to all the many creatures of this world whether they dwell in the homes, farms, or all the wilds beyond. They say that on this night, be it foggy, snowy, or clear, that the barking of the dogs become wild and jubilant calls, that the mooing of the cows becomes a soft echoing croon, and the grazing deer whisper and murmur to each other in the distant meadows which are kept hidden by many a thick wood. The foxes laugh as they tumble and play while above their heads the owls bestow their hard earned wisdom to any and all who bother to listen. The chickens, alighting from their coop, gossip in the night as they scratch at the ground and the barnyard cat scoffs at their candor but goes off, none the less, to spread the rumors he hears. Within the house, within its walls, the mice are singing a lullaby, their voices so soft that only the keen ears of the bats in the attic can hear them ...