This might be one of my favorite short stories I've written. I hope you enjoy too!
It was when the dancers stopped. When the music no longer flowed into the room. When the light had dimmed and lamps had to be lit. When you rose from your seat and at once the world was quiet. It was when crimson tears watered the earth and golden globes burned in the sky. It was the day a God was killed.
And people ran into the streets, screaming and shouting and hollering, they all acclaimed the hero, the murderer, the Slayer of Gods. And the streets filled with white poppies as the Body was paraded around the broken city, the Killer reincarnating the fight whenever the chance presented. And you loved it; the praises, the love... It was for you at last, everything we worked for was your. You had your crowns, your gold, your people... Everything, everything... So much and it was all yours! And days filled with glory erased your gloomy past, nights filled with laughter hid the grotesque truth.
You, the thief, the lover, the king. You, the juggler, the fool, the poet. You, the friend, the hero, the murderer. Do they know how you killed your God?
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet
Short StoryA collection of poems and short stories I write when I'm bored. Most of the themes are sad, so I hope that, in a hundred years when I'm long dead, students read them as part of their Literature lessons. XD ⚠Major character death in some stories⚠
