The King of Bones

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In the ruins of the hall, the mad king kept his court. His tapestries were crawling ivy, his musicians cawing crows. He sat upon a throne of skull and stone, his sunken eyes glowering at his subjects: foxes and badgers and feral cats, a snarling court of white-toothed beasts.

Nobody came here, not anymore. He was sealed away with his madness, only old bones for company. Sometimes they whispered in the dark, telling him the secrets of the dead.

Each morning, he stood at the gate, watching golden light spread over the hills, never able to take that first step.


Word Count: 100

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Roger Bulltot for providing the prompt photo!

 

27 thoughts on “The King of Bones

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  1. There are days when I don’t think I’d mind living among the ruins with only foxes and badgers for company. Old bones whispering in the dark might be a bonus, depending on what secrets the dead have to tell.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is a most excellent tale. I’d come visit his kingdom, for sure. Sounds like my kind of place. And I’m all about a mad king. 🙂 I think this story wants to be expanded.

    Liked by 1 person

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