Hallowed Hall
I am not cruel. I am fair.
Flash Fiction piece written as part of a collective writing prompt from Gentle Wonderment- please do visit them!
They set the table quietly, as they often do.
First with linens and cloth, then plates and silverware, with heavy cut glass and tall flickering candles.
When they are done no space is empty. Sometimes they begin as soon as the weather cools, slowly gathering things to bring to the table for months under the ever shrinking sun. Other years they work in a frenzy, determined to have the places set before Spring rears its head with snowdrops and crocus. They all work together, the people and things that visit, each offering given with a whole and pleading heart, gifting something that will secure their seat at the table. When they set it down, whatever it is that they have brought, they can feel me in their bones, a chill that they can’t shake anywhere other than within these crumbling walls. It may drive them to madness, others to flee and never return, but those that can bare it will return on the last day of February to claim their reward.
I am not cruel.
I am fair.
With each feast held in my hall deals are made and lives are changed- so long as a fair price has been paid.
Thank you, Dear Reader.
I’m working on some longer things at the moment and so flash fiction has been the perfect salve to having a brain that craves newness over the familiar.
I do hope you enjoyed, and rememeber to pop over to Gentle Wonderment and lurk around.
-R
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