The Sorceress’s Monkey
She rode on a golden palanquin, an albino monkey crouched upon her shoulder.
Four men carried the palanquin. Easily, they held it over their heads, out of the way of the multitude.
The multitude gave way. “The sorceress,” they whispered. It was an anxious whisper. She was evil, but no one could kill her. They knew she took people, but no one ever saw her snatch them. The ones who vanished had no families to report them missing; just abandoned wares swept up with the garbage the next day.
The monkey scanned the crowd, lips pulled back from sharp teeth. “I see,” he chattered.
“So do I. The girl with the black shawl?”
“Yes! I saw her first!”
“Perhaps.” The sorceress moved her hands and spoke soft words into the air. The palanquin didn’t stop, but a farmer nearby raised his head, his attention suddenly fixed on the young woman. He went to her stand.
“Can I help you sir?” The woman’s eyes were sad. She wore a mourning cloak.
“I’d like a scarf for my daughter,” said the man. He spoke slowly, the words coming from far away.
“Your daughter.” Her voice was a sigh. “Choose. All I have is here.”
He picked a green scarf and pressed a coin into her hand. As he did, her eyes grew dim. “Follow me,” he said.
“Yes.” The girl’s mouth moved, and her feet, but she slept even as she followed the man out the marketplace along the dusty road leading to the sorceress’s palace.
“They come!” chattered the monkey.
“Hush! Welcome,” said the sorceress, as the girl crossed the threshold.
The girl saw the monkey, and she woke, screaming. She reached for her dagger and flung it at the monkey. The monkey died, writhing in its own blood. The sorceress uttered a cry, then sank to the floor, dead.
“Why did you kill the monkey?” the man asked, when the spell left him and he could speak.
“One bit my daughter last year, and she died of it.”
Behind them, the palace turned to ashes and blew away.
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6 comments:
See how easy it is. No searching for Magic Object and throwing it into Pit of Destiny Somewhere Far Away. ;)
Charming little story.
I like it. and damn it, I am jealous. You did what I have been trying to obtain all weekend... descriptive history in a few words. My simple little descriptions, meant ot enlighten the reader on the history of the heroine, end upbeing pages long when they need to be a couple of sentences. Back to the drawing board for me. sigh... I wish I ha a heart balck enough to steal your little story and clain it as my own at tomorrow night Indy Writers Group meeting. But alas, my heart is purple, not black. That means I'll have to take my pen in hand once more and try to obain the elusive. sigh...
see what i mean? I try to write a cuple of words to tell you how much I like your story and how it drew me in and the next thing I know I have written two pages.
Thank you Daisy and Gabriele!!
This little story was rewritten about 20 times, the ending changed, the middle was changed...I put it away for a year. I took it out and worked on it. I put it away again for a while, and then decided to change one little thing and post it.
lol. It's never easy, I'm afraid.
And yes, Daisy, I know exactly what you mean! I'm still there!
:-)
Great wee tale, Sam. Loving the new digs by the way...
Now that is a neat interference with magic!
What an amazing little tale!
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