Heads are going to roll

The clock is ticking, and
the tides are turning. The
jester and the barkeep play dice
while a few miles away their
messengers have been reduced to
bones. But they do not wait for word
to return and have little hope
even if it does; after the fire goes
out, the snow falls. They do talk
into the night, about everything
and nothing, easy as a knife through
meat and as expected as a wedding
present. Two cups are poured. Due to
the strength of the drink, both are friendlier
than they normally would be. A bet is
placed relating to the king. He is a man
at war with himself in a world of conflict.
Both of them are not uninformed, but they
must not tell each other secrets. There is a
moment of silence. Then a dream of moonlight
decides everything, as it shines on a rider
approaching.
Heads are going to roll…

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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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