“Halt! Who are you?”
“A messenger from southern Pylos, My lord. I have a letter for the king.”
“You may proceed but let your men stay here. My men shall escort you within the palace.”
The messenger left his horse in the hands of the stable boy and followed the guard through the palace doors.
His name and station were announced as he was brought before the king.
“What news do you bring?” The voice from the throne was strong and clear.
“Good tidings your Grace…..”
In the audience a man nudged his neighbor, “That’s my little boy up there.”
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“I never understood your fascination for sitting on that wall. I dreaded the day you’d fall.”
“I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do now. The commander brought his best men and they couldn’t help me. Give me a kiss and send me onwards”
She cried looking at his insides flow out in a runny stream.
“It won’t be forgotten, my love. I spoke to the commander before he left. He promised a song would be written in your name, like the one they wrote about that little girl who ran away. What was her name….”
“Miss Muffet I think..”
It was an idyllic Sunday afternoon by the river. The blue waters gave way to white foam topped peaks as they hit against the rocks in their path.
A man and his lover lounged in the shade of a tree nearby. The remnants of their picnic lunch lay on the checkered sheet beside them. She seemed to be laughing at something he said. A guitar stood propped against the tree with the song he would serenade her with later.
Feeling like an intruder Myrah moved ahead to the next canvas where a woman combing her hair stared into a mirror.