the king and i

Stillness and darkness are among us, and I can only see his bowed head held by the palm of his hand. I know he’s alive because I can see the blood vessels on his knuckles, shone by the moonlight leaking in from the windows.

The sound of banging explodes, and I crawl to the corner. With my trembling hands tightly against my chest, I curl up, close my eyes, and count ten.

When I open my eyes, it is quiet again. A pair of gray eyes stare at me. Or, perhaps, the wall behind me. Then, disappear.

I get up on my feet and walk towards him. When I reach him, I brush his cheek with my hand. His head leans against my touch, his eyes closed. Everything moves slowly, like the faint clouds above the moon outside.

Then, his veined hand grabs my wrist, and his gray eyes snap open, alive.

“It’s time.”

For Sunday Photo Fiction – June 21 2020 and What Do You See #35.

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Image Credit- Pixabay- Ariadne-a-mazed

18 thoughts on “the king and i

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