Tale of The Dark Cellar
Happy Halloween to all the oddballs, enthusiasts, lovelies and children of all ages. This was an assignment from months ago given by Mama Lia #evilauntylia. We had a poetry round and combined a line from each of our works to form a stanza. Then we used that stanza to write a new piece. I am not much of a story teller or fiction writer, enjoy!
It has been 54 years, 3 months 2 weeks and one day,
Hiding behind curtains of lies, schemes, and treachery,
Dawned by the eclipse of misdirection and bitterness,
I live in the dark, damp, cellar of injustice,
Who is counting? The days I have imprisoned myself here,
I am just passing time like fruit flies,
Waiting to finish it's life cycle and die,
Reaping the rotten fruits of the seeds sewn by my bloodline.
The kind heiresses use to kill their spinster aunts,
With the hope of kin in hand,
Like the grasshopper that hops around,
As it heard a whisper, "Is this my beginning or the end?"
When the water floats,
And it moans a symphony,
Of blood dripping cold on the rugged cobblestone that once breathed hope.
I was part of their elaborate executions,
Dynamite, cyanide, twine and wine,
These ladies knew how to make it all seamless,
In exchange for my services and absolute silence,
I was rewarded a cut, a generous one indeed,
As how lionesses would share out their killings with the pride,
We were as thick as thieves,
But even amongst us we had our own intentions slithering up our sleeves.
In the blink of an eye, the speed of a shutter,
The tables turned in our lovely manor,
Greed over powered and consumed them,
It turned the heiresses against each other,
Caught in the crossfire was I, the scapegoat,
Tied to the stake, ready to be burned by the judgement of Salem,
No way to justify what I had done,
Sentence to eternal damnation in isolation.
My freedom and entrapment are my walls,
Protecting me from the world that is waiting,
Waiting to skin me alive for my heartless acts,
If my walls could talk of the many banters I had with it,
You would not believe your ears,
Maybe one day I can see light again,
Be blinded like a bat in broad daylight,
But for now, I will dwell in the wretched glory of the heiresses.
15:08H 22nd July 2016
SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaids.
She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made.
She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.
She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.