His Face (A Short Story)
Friza woke up with a start. She hurried out of the bed into her robe and dashed for the door. She picked up the pace as she tore through the guards and down into the main hall. Everyone was alarmed. The sentries at the main gate were confused as to whether to open the door or restrain her. She made the choice for them when she ran to the glass window, opened it and jumped over. She must have fallen over 20 feet but she didn’t feel it. She kept on running, each moment bringing her to her destination. She noticed the eyes of onlookers on her and the oohs from those whose eyes caught a glimmer of what was behind her robe. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Nothing but this. She continued running until she got to the Sept. There, she went underground into the crypt and saw his stature. She jumped at it and caress his face. His face! She was forgetting his face! The smoothness of his cheek. The firmness of his jaw. The guards looked on as Queen Friza mourned her dead son all over again. It was then she felt the the shard of glass nestling in the spring of blood by her side. Finally, she would be able to see his face everyday.
This is my second entry for the Week #21 Fox Tales by @vermillionfox. She also provided the picture as a prompt.
Thanks for reading.
Blessings
impressive writeup.
Thanks a lot
Blessings
The suspense ruled from the beginning to the end
That was the idea
Thanks boss
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