Of course, I felt a certain... satisfaction to be presented with his severed head, but I had thought his fiery accusations would vanish just as soon as he was dead. I was a fool. It isn't hard to kill: a brief command unsheathed the silver blade and all was done. But though his tongue lay still, the words it spoke could never be unsaid. His living voice would echo through the palace; his ghostly voice still echoes much the same. It surely is a brand of hell's own malice that I still hear him calling me by name. By all the gods that are or that might be, I beg you, John—leave me in peace.
I love reading your poems here. They are always thoughtful, with a winsome imagination that lets us peek around corners, wondering. Glad to see you in Fathom!
I love reading your poems here. They are always thoughtful, with a winsome imagination that lets us peek around corners, wondering. Glad to see you in Fathom!