DismaiNaim
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2024
- Messages
- 203
- Points
- 83
*italics*
Beneath a cloudy sky, cradled by forest-covered mountains, gently hugging the bay, was the city. Mud houses and stone apartments, shops, storehouses, smithies belching smoke into the air, bakeries, jewelers, shipwrights, all crowded around narrow streets like spokes in a wheel towards the center. There, framed by the royal palace, temple, amphitheater, and the marketplace, was the square. In the center of that square was a pole, and atop that pole was a cage. Within the cage was a woman.
Across the cobbled stones beneath her, jugglers tossed knives into the air, artists painted pictures of visitors, fortunetellers consulted trinkets, and pickpocketing children ran from the constables. A line of burly men carried sacks, barrels, and bales fresh from the pier over their sweaty shoulders through the crowd.
Smoke carried seared garlic, onions, and herbs with caramelized sugar from a woodstove, a beacon to the line of hungry with jingling coins ready. Across from them, another vendor displayed chunks of coconut dipped in chocolate on a stick. Further down, hidden behind a crowd of people, came the smell of warm coffee, and on the other side, fried dough dipped in fine sugar crystals and served in a folded paper still steaming.
Did they allow her one last meal before smashing her teeth and carving out her tongue?
Every now and then, someone afforded her a fleeting glance before turning away, going back to their lives. A young child pointed a finger at her. “Why is she up there, mommy?”
A hand reached down, swift and forceful, and ushered the child far, far away.
No more words were spoken.
A street magician waved a blue and yellow scarf up, down, left and right, making circles of color in the air. The scarf was lifted, and a shiny silver ball appeared. The crowd applauded.
“Here is the trick,” the magician said with a smile. “It’s a misdirection, you see. You watch the scarf, and because you were distracted by the colorful scarf, you didn’t see my other hand reach for the ball. Watch closely as I demonstrate for you again.”
And while everyone watched the off hand, the scarf transformed into a bird with blue and yellow feathers.
Everyone laughed and cheered and clapped their hands except the woman in the cage. Her scalp had been shorn leaving patches of gray stubble amid blisters and scabs of dried blood. Her arms and legs were broken and bent, and a jagged bone thrust out from her shin leaving a festering wound for the flies to buzz around. Her eyes followed the bird into the cloudy sky.
*What can we say to each other, old woman? You made your choice, and so have I.*
At one side of the square is the royal palace.
A line of armored men held poles twice their height with uniform precision, each topped with a blade of polished steel. Behind them, marbled steps zigzagged up along a wall with carved stone motifs of ancient heroes before arriving at a wide platform with a row of white silk banners that fluttered in the breeze. Beyond this, tall columns held up a covered area with a gold-plated chandelier with dangling crystals suspended by a chain over a heavy wooden door.
On the opposite side of the square was a monument to the golden rectangle, with polished marble columns holding up a gilded roof bearing the holy symbols, and a crucible at each corner with smoldering incense. There was no line of armed guards, but an iron fence kept out the unworthy.
A crow sailed over the crowd and perched on her cage. It settled on a corner where her hip had pressed into the metal bars, bulging her flesh between them. There, the crow took her skin in its beak and ripped a scrap of meat from her body. She jerked slightly, but no noise came from her. Her shattered arms and legs refused to fight. The crow swallowed that and tore off another piece. The woman’s eyes blinked and her head shook slightly from side to side. Her chest lifted only to press into the crumpled remnant of an arm. The crow ripped another scrap of meat from her and flew off.
Beneath her cage, a young woman fluttered her eyelashes at a young man, only to erupt into a giggle as he swept her up in his arms.
Three signs were nailed to the pole beneath her, forming a triangle such that one would have to walk around to read them all.
Blasphemer.
Seditionist.
Traitor.
*A badge of honor I am unworthy to wear.*
Beneath a cloudy sky, cradled by forest-covered mountains, gently hugging the bay, was the city. Mud houses and stone apartments, shops, storehouses, smithies belching smoke into the air, bakeries, jewelers, shipwrights, all crowded around narrow streets like spokes in a wheel towards the center. There, framed by the royal palace, temple, amphitheater, and the marketplace, was the square. In the center of that square was a pole, and atop that pole was a cage. Within the cage was a woman.
Across the cobbled stones beneath her, jugglers tossed knives into the air, artists painted pictures of visitors, fortunetellers consulted trinkets, and pickpocketing children ran from the constables. A line of burly men carried sacks, barrels, and bales fresh from the pier over their sweaty shoulders through the crowd.
Smoke carried seared garlic, onions, and herbs with caramelized sugar from a woodstove, a beacon to the line of hungry with jingling coins ready. Across from them, another vendor displayed chunks of coconut dipped in chocolate on a stick. Further down, hidden behind a crowd of people, came the smell of warm coffee, and on the other side, fried dough dipped in fine sugar crystals and served in a folded paper still steaming.
Did they allow her one last meal before smashing her teeth and carving out her tongue?
Every now and then, someone afforded her a fleeting glance before turning away, going back to their lives. A young child pointed a finger at her. “Why is she up there, mommy?”
A hand reached down, swift and forceful, and ushered the child far, far away.
No more words were spoken.
A street magician waved a blue and yellow scarf up, down, left and right, making circles of color in the air. The scarf was lifted, and a shiny silver ball appeared. The crowd applauded.
“Here is the trick,” the magician said with a smile. “It’s a misdirection, you see. You watch the scarf, and because you were distracted by the colorful scarf, you didn’t see my other hand reach for the ball. Watch closely as I demonstrate for you again.”
And while everyone watched the off hand, the scarf transformed into a bird with blue and yellow feathers.
Everyone laughed and cheered and clapped their hands except the woman in the cage. Her scalp had been shorn leaving patches of gray stubble amid blisters and scabs of dried blood. Her arms and legs were broken and bent, and a jagged bone thrust out from her shin leaving a festering wound for the flies to buzz around. Her eyes followed the bird into the cloudy sky.
*What can we say to each other, old woman? You made your choice, and so have I.*
At one side of the square is the royal palace.
A line of armored men held poles twice their height with uniform precision, each topped with a blade of polished steel. Behind them, marbled steps zigzagged up along a wall with carved stone motifs of ancient heroes before arriving at a wide platform with a row of white silk banners that fluttered in the breeze. Beyond this, tall columns held up a covered area with a gold-plated chandelier with dangling crystals suspended by a chain over a heavy wooden door.
On the opposite side of the square was a monument to the golden rectangle, with polished marble columns holding up a gilded roof bearing the holy symbols, and a crucible at each corner with smoldering incense. There was no line of armed guards, but an iron fence kept out the unworthy.
A crow sailed over the crowd and perched on her cage. It settled on a corner where her hip had pressed into the metal bars, bulging her flesh between them. There, the crow took her skin in its beak and ripped a scrap of meat from her body. She jerked slightly, but no noise came from her. Her shattered arms and legs refused to fight. The crow swallowed that and tore off another piece. The woman’s eyes blinked and her head shook slightly from side to side. Her chest lifted only to press into the crumpled remnant of an arm. The crow ripped another scrap of meat from her and flew off.
Beneath her cage, a young woman fluttered her eyelashes at a young man, only to erupt into a giggle as he swept her up in his arms.
Three signs were nailed to the pole beneath her, forming a triangle such that one would have to walk around to read them all.
Blasphemer.
Seditionist.
Traitor.
*A badge of honor I am unworthy to wear.*
