The Poet, The Princess, and The Promise: A Short Story

Karthik

I set down the scroll I was currently reading, looking once more at the window in front of me; nothing. Instead, what I found was the summer sunlight staring right at me, its beam pointed between my eyes. I squinted, put my hand a little over my eyes to shield myself from the light, but not for one second did I take my eyes off of the window.

How much longer?

I kept it open with the excuse of wanting to cool myself, an acceptable reason. But the main reason hadn't shown up yet, and dusk was swiftly approaching. To my left lay several books and scrolls, ones that I'd studied long ago, but to make myself look useful in the eyes of any passerby and to pass the hours, had been pulled out.

My fingers were now tapping away on my desk, creating a rapid rhythm. My eyes perused the land outside these walls, finding abundant amounts of greenery; rolling valleys, tall trees swaying gently with the wind. If my hands had as much power as my tongue, perhaps I could record the events of this world better than simply writing them as words. But what would it matter?

A single dot moving across the sky caught my eye, and I stood up, knocking over a scroll or two that were at the edge of the table. As it came closer, I recognized the dot as a pura. It perched on my windowsill and took a moment to steady itself before cooing at me. Sure enough, tied to the bird's leg was a small piece of paper. My fingers hastily untied the ribbon and greedily took the paper, eager to read its contents.

" Tonight, when the moon is at her highest and you hear the midnight bell "

I recognized the handwriting; I heard the message.