The splashing can be heard from my own room, he says aloud in his head, repeating it again and again in hopes of maybe that alone can be reasonable enough a justification for what he’s about to do right now.
He ducks into the nearest pillar at the rhythmic clank of metal on stone. The boy calms his breath and tries to make himself smaller than he already is, tucking in spindly arms within his bowed body. The clanks steadily approach, and he stills.
He quickly gives a silent prayer to the Deity and promises to offer more Sacrifices if They let him pass unnoticed.
The clanking grinds to a halt…
The boy grips his robes a little too tightly. He waits.
…And continues on to a different direction.
He doesn’t move until they fade entirely.
He skims his fingers along the wall as he walks, the tips easily gliding over the stone. The pads of his fingers smooth over nonexistent creases; his nails sketch fleeting ringlets on the unyielding canvas. He hums at the cold kissing his skin. A smile graces his face.
The moisture in the air hits his nose and he breathes in. His smile gets softer and more bittersweet as he nears.
He steps into the cold, wet stone, stops, and listens.
The splashing stops. The swish of what sounds like a long tail whips the floor with a sharp FWIP! and reverberates throughout the chamber.
A curling rasp rumbles from the central chamber.
You are a bold one, young prince.
|Originally written: February 21, 2022
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Choice Cuts
Short StorySweetest Decay, Series 1 A collection of my short stories I first published in my writing blog, Sweet Decay.
