Queen's Lover
The bells were striking and a teeming crowd were cheering and stinking awfully.
A body of unfortunate man scattered around among bare feet.
Behind the place of torment, in the inn, a priest was stuffing some meat and blessed wine was dripping from his beard. His fatty hands were roaming on the hills of the rich noblewoman who was very devote, of course. They were laughing to tears.
A hangman changed his clothes and as a normal townsman rushed to the market to waste money which had been splashed with blood, a bribe for a quick death.
Going away from the rotten reality, I stepped on the bridge of sorrow, alone, to look deeply into his eyes and to tell him that I am sorry. The bridge was very long, wooden, full of decayed boards, very dangerous to walk across.
Along the both sides of it, there were two rows of stilts and on them there was much of rotten remains. The smell of death arose in the air.
In the middle of the bridge, on the left, there was a gathering of black, enormous crows dancing their Totentanz. I came quietly. I was not able to look into his eyes any more. The crows looked at me with hate and envy, did not invite me to dine with them. Their beaks full of blood, tore the flash with specific jangle, clangle, jangle, clangle. I could not move, looking as enchanted. The head on the stilt, it was a perverse smile on his face…
Suddenly, a wooden, creaking cart waddled on the bridge. It was full of victims of the plague, harvested in the town. I covered my face with the shawl and pulled the enormous hood on my head. It was rolling just next to me, creaking and crunching. Foaming horses seemed not to see anybody alive among the mass of dead in the dead town. They were stepping bluntly, tired, terrified, soaking up the death. They could not feel anything else.
I was observing them, going away, the last route of so many… I turned to my lover. Horse's saliva hanged on the piece of an open eyelid…
I smiled perversely.
Our little battle of life and death was won by me.
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© Niuta kacar
A body of unfortunate man scattered around among bare feet.
Behind the place of torment, in the inn, a priest was stuffing some meat and blessed wine was dripping from his beard. His fatty hands were roaming on the hills of the rich noblewoman who was very devote, of course. They were laughing to tears.
A hangman changed his clothes and as a normal townsman rushed to the market to waste money which had been splashed with blood, a bribe for a quick death.
Going away from the rotten reality, I stepped on the bridge of sorrow, alone, to look deeply into his eyes and to tell him that I am sorry. The bridge was very long, wooden, full of decayed boards, very dangerous to walk across.
Along the both sides of it, there were two rows of stilts and on them there was much of rotten remains. The smell of death arose in the air.
In the middle of the bridge, on the left, there was a gathering of black, enormous crows dancing their Totentanz. I came quietly. I was not able to look into his eyes any more. The crows looked at me with hate and envy, did not invite me to dine with them. Their beaks full of blood, tore the flash with specific jangle, clangle, jangle, clangle. I could not move, looking as enchanted. The head on the stilt, it was a perverse smile on his face…
Suddenly, a wooden, creaking cart waddled on the bridge. It was full of victims of the plague, harvested in the town. I covered my face with the shawl and pulled the enormous hood on my head. It was rolling just next to me, creaking and crunching. Foaming horses seemed not to see anybody alive among the mass of dead in the dead town. They were stepping bluntly, tired, terrified, soaking up the death. They could not feel anything else.
I was observing them, going away, the last route of so many… I turned to my lover. Horse's saliva hanged on the piece of an open eyelid…
I smiled perversely.
Our little battle of life and death was won by me.
----------------------------------------------
© Niuta kacar
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