Dawn—the knights are summoned,
an attack on a village,
anticipated.
A monster lurks and feeds
on naïve, weak souls.
A knight in brass, gold, and white,
climbs atop his gelding,
a thoroughbred with a great black mane,
and a coat dotted with white stars.
He bids farewell to
child and woman and rides...
Amongst his comrades,
beside his captain,
he rides into the twilight.
In hushed midnight, only the hooves
thunder across the paths,
and disturb a flock of pigeons,
which fly in frenzied surprise.
The knight, in his chest,
holds troublous thoughts,
and grasps onto his only hope,
that he was not too late,
and the village will be unscathed.
A whisper under moonlight
—a wind making willow quiver,
carries the charm of the Black Forest,
where myths are alive.
At the touch of dawn,
in desperate light, the army halts.
Heartbeats strain and breathing slows,
as scorched terrain guides cautious feet.
But the village is deserted,
not a soul can be found.
The knight hangs his head,
sorrow clouding his mind.
They were too late.
Suddenly the horses whinny,
and restless hooves gallop away.
Knights turn to face the fright,
shields and swords ready,
eyes widen when she emerges from the shadow.
A lady in white with gold flecks sparkling,
walks silently out of the shadow.
Her hair a flaming orange,
her lips, a lush pink,
her eyes shining in purple
—the most enchanting sight.
A comrade drops his sword,
falling to his knees,
a mistake.
Immediately, she is beside him,
a serpent drooling down his neck.
Delicate hands with lean fingers,
choke him and then,
snap!
The knight trembles beneath his armor,
the monster roars at them all,
he holds his shield,
thrusts his sword,
but she is too quick.
With only sword and shield
against the monster, he fights.
She is stronger,
she is quicker,
she fights.
Sweat, tears, fear,
he endures her mighty blows,
and dodges her thorny tail,
and stabs.
The knight sees before him,
a wounded serpent.
A wound gashing,
green blood trickling out.
In the moment of quiet,
her heart beats.
War cry, the knight,
sprints forward,
her tail just misses his throat,
he thrusts his sword,
deep in her chest in anger and fear.
The sword pierces all the way through.
He yanks it sideways,
severing her in half.
Eyes frozen in the moment of fury,
she falls.
His comrades battered, bruised,
cut, bitten, stagger to his side,
and all take a deep breath, smelling raw flesh.
The captain lay a hand on his shoulder.
It is over.
The noble knight climbs down
from his gelding,
a thoroughbred with a great black mane,
and a coat dotted with white stars.
Child with eyes agleam,
woman with eyes red from worry,
hug him dearly.
The knight, in his chest,
holds tranquil thoughts,
but still remembers,
when he saw the village,
and his heart was rent,
and he knew,
that he was too late.
The ghost of that day,
shall follow him to his grave.
YOU ARE READING
Celestial Beyond
PoetryBeyond all the known stars, there is a world where magic is in the air. Wars occur between the royalty, dragons are pets, and Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses, Dukes and Duchesses, maids, butlers, and knights all have their own roles they mu...
