Gothic Creative Writing Story

2013 WordsSep 15, 20129 Pages
The burning began at the earliest hour. His majesty, king of Otranto watched unsatisfied as the roaring flames licked over what was once the purest of white roses. All composure lost at but a petal unlit, he left no rose in his entire kingdom with even the dignity of coal before dismantling to ash, until alas, they were sealed to their fiery fate. The winds were still now, not even the tweak of a tree for encouragement nor the bravery of a whisper of the surrounding men as they watched in due apprehension to break the stillness. All that remained were the plumes of billowing exhaust tracing upwards into the air, and King Warner, as he watched from his throne until the smog faded into the midst. By dawn the white roses, together with any…show more content…
His morality could not have disturbed the sweetness of thought as he fantasized of the princess now. She lingered, planted too deep inside of him for the governance of a rational mind to ever again exist. He was unaware of his blinding to the devil, oblivious to the weakness of his soul. But what was a lion to a lamb after all? And Satan could only resist the weakness of a man so much. He awoke in the dampness of crimson amidst the hustle of the guards outside. “A white rose!” “The prophecy!” the peasant women mindlessly screamed in unison. He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing
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