"Raise your hands above your head!" yelled the guard outside my cell and so I did. He entered and put a collar on me before taking off my bindings. "It's time for your trial."
I was lead through a cold and humid stone corridor, connecting the underground cells to the castle. Most of them were empty, save for two. My neighbor, Hrina, was sentenced to rot, living off of mold and licking water off the stones. Closer to the entrance was Stiya, whose hands were already cut off for stealing, now awaiting trial for "disrupting peace" by yelling lies on the street.
They put a damp bag on my head and escorted me to the court room, towards which the air became colder and colder. By the time we arrived, the bag became solid as the moisture in the fabric froze. Someone took it off of my head as if it was a helm when I heard:
"You are standing in front of Yss the Just, ruler of the Tundes and Chieftain of the Mountain. You are to be sentenced for---"
I lost interest in listening to what I already knew, using this time to examine the famous Yss instead; her seat was on top of a 20 foot high mountain of ice, wearing what seemed to be a bear hide and looking down at me while taking in every word of the speaker.
"What is your claim?" asked Yss as my sins were all read. "Do you have anything to defend yourself in the Court of Justice?"
I stared blankly at her.
"Alright then," she gestured towards a guard, "bring me his head!"
They made me kneel and watched as my head fall by the justice of Just Yss, sitting on her mountain-of-just-ice.
Dedicated to Hristiyana
Writing began at 08 nov 2021 and was put on hold for the better part of 2022 until publishing.
Throughout my years as a writer, I found myself unable to write on command. Every time I am faced with restrictions, deadlines or the possibility of working with unlike-minded individuals, whether it is a short story, a song or as simple as a letter, my mind seems to freeze and to actively deter inspiration, preventing ideas to form and prosper in what otherwise would be the perfect habitat for them...
I'm lost in the light
I'm lusting the void
People around me
Are nothing, but noise
I am surrounded
There's nowhere to go
The lack of the bright
Is where I feel home
Written at 17 August 2021
"No!" The angry student exclaimed, "I told you already! This is it! I refuse to change any of it!" He threw his papers in the air and stormed out of the lecture hall.
"What was that about?" asked the curious bystander, who helped Mark to pick up the angry student's essay.
"Just another art student refusing criticism," he said as he looked at his empty wrist, "do you know what time is it?"
"It's 11:05," she revealed with morbid casualty.
Written for 24 hour flash story writing competition, given theme was Ruthless Ambition.
It's found me. Ran inside and closed the door. Tell--