Drabble #71: Empire

[jalenstrix]

...we again had a quieter response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 70, with an entry by me (your intrepid drabble proposer jalenstrix). The terrific 3iggy and gorgeous ghislaine represented the labyfic collective with commenting love — huzzah!

Mwah to my labyfic collective! I miiiiiiiiss you, though. Come joooooooin us again!!


For this prompt, we continue with our one-word drabble roots, with a word inspired from the origins of the month of August (ave, Caesar, ave!):

Empire

Ah, the concerns of those who rule...likely Jareth, but perhaps not! Who knows what troubles an empire may face, requiring the help of a goblin king?



Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the limit for this month of 500 words. Though remember that shorter pieces are most definitely welcome!

Your entry should take the following format, posted as a comment on this entry:

Word count: # of words
Drabble: $your_beautiful_drabble



I'll aim to get the next drabble challenge out on the first Friday of next month (Sep 7).

I'm also very happy to take suggestions if something in particular strikes your fancy -- comment on this post or PM me with your suggestions. You can see our current collected suggestions here.


Remember: Feedback is LOVE. So do reply to your fellow labyficcers' drabbles if so inclined. (Though be careful of concrit unless specifically okayed by the author beforehand.)

Comments

Drabble 71: Empire

[3iggy]

Words: 589 (sorry)
A/N: The poem is Sylvia Plath ‘The Moon and the Yew Tree”

Could you really pick a path between the stars? Sarah thought. The girl was laying on a red flannel blanket in the overgrown backyard of the big old Victorian in which she’d grown up. The garden inhabitants—ancient rose bushes and drooping weiglia—were just beginning to decay. They stood no chance against the encroaching empire of autumn. The evening was riddled with signs of its advent.
Sarah shivered as she watched a new light appear in the sky. Picking paths would get increasing difficult as more and more stars became visible, as the world grew dark.
A sliver of twilight reflected on white wings stole her attention.
Sarah sat up and watched the owl deftly land upon the nearby branch of a friendly oak. It was quiet in the garden surrounded by shrubbery and her voice sounded like an interruption as she addressed the nightbird: The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls. How I would like to believe in tenderness—The face of the effigy, gentled by candles, bending, on me in particular, its mild eyes.

“I had a dream about you once,” she said when the owl only shook himself in response to her recitation. She leaned back on her hands, dark hair sliding over her shoulders as she stared up at the owl who was curiously gazing down upon her.
“Are you a giver of gifts? An ender of worlds? Do you shatter time and remake it? Can you pick a path through the stars? Or move them as you wish? Do you turn worlds upside down and little girls inside out?”
The owl with graceful, careful movements came to rest on a lower branch.
“My what big eyes you have,” Sarah smiled up at him. “You’re an uncanny creature to come near and listen to a young woman’s musings.”
The owl came still closer.
Sarah smiled.
“Tell me, Great Emperor of the Night, do you lay claim to other realms as well? I do believe you may be a Tzar of Dreams, perhaps even a Winter Prince? Better yet, a Goblin King?”
The owl drifted to the ground. His light descent barely disturbed the thin layer of dry leaves.
“Perhaps you are a Rumpelstiltskin and I need only speak your true name to get what I want,” Sarah leaned forward mere feet away from the lovely creature.
A shiver sent pebbles racing across every inch of her skin as she let go of the world, as she focused on the night, on the owl and the magic they were creating. It could’ve been her overactive imagination, but there was something strange and wonderful about this bird.
“Jareth,” she whispered, her voice nearly swallowed by the crisp edges of the dark.
Between one blink and another the owl was no more. In his place was an elven man, all sharp points and angles, but just as fair as his feathered alter ego. He canted his head and his lips curled up at the corners—every inch of him marked for mischief—more imp than elf.
“Sarah,” he replied.
Somewhere in the back of her mind a childish voice was telling her to back away, not run, you should never run from immortal things, but leave. Sarah stayed where she was seated beneath the night sky. She would not back down from the Great Emperor of the Night, no matter what tricks he had in store for her. This garden was her kingdom after all.

Re: Drabble 71: Empire

[jalenstrix]

Eeeee, so much potential and anticipation of things to come, with that lovely poetic scene-setting!

Re: Drabble 71: Empire

[redwolf]

What could possibly go wrong with inviting the Goblin King into your realm? 🦊🧡