I will take it, make it mine
Will tomorrow be as good as yesterday?
The storyteller began his tale
On his neck hung a chain
With a bright jewel
Which held the mystery
So he said.
I ask him about it
Truly, I wanted it
I felt like Gollum.
He winked at me
It’s but a wee thing
Nothing special.
This angered me
which felt like a small
stone growing inside me
I knew I would do anything
to have it
Watching as it changed colour
from blue to green then blue again
It flickered, as if a shifting light
lay behind it
It will be mine.
His story ended with a question
Where does magic come from?
From the jewel around your neck
I thought.
The heat of the day was fading
Dark tendrils of night swept across
the dark sky
Right now, my only thought
will he sleep outside
with the rest of us
Or move on like a wandering minstrel?
I thought him sly
Neither minstrel nor storyteller
He lay his cloak on the ground
as we did
Faking sleep I’m sure.
I kept one eye on him
When time passed
I crept closer
Lay awhile listening
to his breathing
I couldn’t tell if sleep had taken him.
Sly as a fox, I slid my hand beneath his collar
Trying to undo the clasp, he woke
I slammed my fist into his face
He lay quiet.
The jewel and I took off
Not turning to see who I might have woken
I ran deep into the woods before stopping
To look at my prize
Heart beating, legs shaking,
I slumped beneath a giant oak tree
Glad of its support against my back
Opening my hand, the jewel shone
Like the eye of God
Now all I need is for the magic to start…
