Tuesday, May 19, 2015

out of place

Broken dreams scattered like glass shards, sparkling in the hard light of day. He had to blink several times before the broken bottles registered as actual objects.

His long white surcoat, shot through with silver thread, fluttered limply in the dead summer wind. The mirror bright torus links of the knight’s fairy-maile reflected a strange world of concrete taupe, sand colored storefronts, off-white walls, and gray baked blacktop.

Children clamored to see the white knight emerging from the sweltering alleyway. Concerned mothers saw the gilded blade in his hand and tucked the children safely away into minivans and four door sedans.

The knight called out in words none could comprehend. It seemed so close to English, but still beyond the bounds of modern dialect. The authorities were summoned with cellular phones.

Hot, quick lead could not pierce the too-perfect chained links, but aketons were not sewn to withstand exploding force. The knight was brought down, battered but breathing.

A parade of indignities and institutions and barbiturates besieged Knight Out of Place.

Such was his cruel payment. Laughing Sprite tittered viciously from the haze of a long passed day.

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