Scenes from the mindscape

The writer looks around at his surroundings.

A beautifully furnished cell, furnished for the transportation of a queen complete with airholes.

With every known comfort yes, but a cell nevertheless.

Walking to the desk, running tired hands along its dark mahogany surface, he picks up a pen and tries once again...

~~~

The Forge
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Stepping in to the glowing room, the knight removes his armor and lays it on the brooding anvil.

His fingers trail across the pockmarked surface, pausing at each dent, each field repair, reliving the encounters.

The awkward weld of repair after the first battle.

3 holes in the shoulder where arrows had pierced.

The gash in the backplate, struck by turned brothers.

Drawing deeper into his memories, he examines the many symbols on the breastplate that make up the coat of arms.

Cross, scales, torch, blade, and so many more that even he could not recall what they all stood for.

Finally, his fingers find the few that he seeks.

The waves, the mouse, the green dagger, the bloody horn and the copper bloom.

marking them out with a white lime stone, the man turns to heat a chisel in the glowing forge then turns to the wall and hefts a silver hammer from a hook.

Placing the white hot edge of the chisel on the breastplate he eyes each symbol one last time.

Then, closing his eyes, he lets the hammer fall.

again

and again

and again