The Mirror Part 1 - The Meeting

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic


A young man is sitting in a tavern, when he meets a stranger ...

Submitted: May 01, 2018

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Submitted: May 01, 2018

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The Meeting:

 

In a crowded tavern in Ktisma I sat alone,

When I did spy a stranger

Whose eyes were wild and cold as stone.

And in that run down place

With such mirth and merriment,

He looked as though his soul in twain was rent.

I knew that his heart was about to fail,

And pain darkened his tormented face.

 

I asked him to tell me what had happened,

Where his troubles all began.

After a moment’s hesitation he spoke,

Clasping his goblet firmly in his hand.

‘I may appear to be young in years,

But my heart feels the ravages of age.

Scarce can a mere man hope to withstand

The storms that against me rage.

 

My woes did begin when a certain creature

By happenstance I did meet.

‘Twas on a dark and stormy night

As I wandered these self-same streets.

There in the light of an oil lamp she stood

Under that rain-bruised sky.

Her hair was a fiery red,

And storms brewed in her dark blue eyes.

 

The light upon her rain-drenched clothes

Her slender figure was revealing,

And when she spoke,

The sound of her soft voice sent my defences reeling.

Thus beguiled by her mysterious beauty,

I felt the magnet of her charms.

Like a man bewitched I crossed the street,

And as we met, I took her in my arms.

 

As we basked in love’s warm glow,

I felt tranquil, my heart serene.

But alas, that fateful night,

A strange unnerving light

In her eyes I had not seen.

In my heart I thought that love

That seemed to be so right and true

My zeal for life would renew.

 

Thus, intoxicated by her charms,

When she led me to a darkened room,

I was deaf to the alarms that sounded in my soul.

A sense of dread did o’er this chamber loom,

Despite the fire that burnt within the hearth,

And the air seemed damp and cold.

Captivated by the heat of our desire,

I was blind as passion’s flames burnt higher.

But all too soon I was made aware

That she was meant to do me harm.

She came to my chamber every night,

And my resistance crumbled in her arms.

She began to take possession

Of my body, mind and heart.

Try as I might, I had not the will to fight,

As her attentions tore my soul apart.

 

On a fateful day, to my dismay,

She took me to a cold stone cell.

With fetters on my hands and feet,

I thought that my soul was in hell.

The maiden came to me in the still of the night,

And tormented my sleepless hours.

‘Twas then that I knew that what I dreaded was true.

I was utterly in her power.

 

My days were spent searching

For a means by which I could break free.

Though I looked high and low,

There was no such route that I could see.

My voice would be made hoarse

As I would cry out in desperation.

If only there were one under the sun

Who would free me from this dismal isolation!

 

Then on a winter’s morn

I was certain that I did see

And eagle in majestic flight.

My heart leapt at the sight

Of the bird as it flew so wild and free.

‘O great bird, would that you had heard

The cries that rent my soul.

Come down, I pray, and make me whole!’

 

But as I cried my soul sighed

When the vision seemed to be no more.

In my darkened room the dread and gloom

Seemed more dreadful than before.

I sank even further into the pits of anguish.

And when in the night,

My captor came to seal my shame,

Any hope of salvation vanished.

 

Alone again I felt I could no more

Live in this stone and iron cage.

I did scream and shout,

And like a madman lashed out

In a fit of utter rage.

I deemed all to be lost.

I feared that for lust I had sold my soul,

And now I was left to pay the cost.


© Copyright 2018 Tristan Biggs. All rights reserved.

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