Don’t blame the sinner. Our future was destined to end before we began; poisoned by the serpent. You brought me- your angel- to your castle… my knight on his stallion, determined to save me. I tried. I really did. But my flawed nature reared its ugly head and consumed me… changed me. I embraced the devil within that re-emerged. Any goodness I had is submerged in your river of tears.
Stephan crumpled the note and hurled it into the fire. He watched as the edges flamed, curled and turned to ash. He unclenched his fists and stormed out of his study.
He stalked the labyrinth paths in the garden, refusing to release the tears as Emory expected. He paused when he heard a faint giggle carried on the breeze. Emory. He peered over the manicured hedge and through the tree branches at the gazebo. Lights lined the support posts and beams, illuminating Emory’s golden hair spilling down Robert’s chest as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. Stephan’s gaze focused on Robert’s hands, which held her waist with inappropriate familiarity.
“I will not cry for you!”
Emory and Robert separated and stared open-mouthed at Stephan as he jumped the hedge and rushed toward them.
“How could you betray me, brother?”
“It’s not his fault.” Emory reached for Stephan’s arm.
He jerked away from her delicate fingers.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Stephan drew a knife and lunged toward his older brother. Emory stepped aside.
Robert deflected the blade and knocked the knife from Stephan’s hand.
Emory let out an eerie, anguished cry.
The two men halted, mid-wrestle, both startled and intrigued by the peculiar sound.
A large python circled their ankles. They lifted their feet to elude the scaly noose, but the snake tightened its grip. It slithered up their legs, squeezing them like a spent tube of toothpaste. Pressed together, the men realized struggling was no use.
“Emory, please help,” Robert begged.
Stephan gasped as the snake inched up their waists and around their chests.
Emory watched in silence as her two loves disappeared inside the python’s coils. She lacked guilt for her involvement and the decency to turn her back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s in my nature. Don’t blame the sinner.”
This is my response to the Speakeasy weekly writing prompt. This week, we were asked to write a response under 750 words (mine is 377) and: (1) Use “Don’t blame the sinner” as the first line; and (2) make some kind of reference to the media prompt- a painting called The Chess Queens, by Muriel Streeter.
The challenge is open to everyone, so if you’re intrigued or inspired, write your response and link up! Click the badge below to visit Speakeasy’s site. Have a beautiful Monday!