Szafir knelt at the edge of the world, sorting her visions. They coiled around her ankles; they danced on her shoulders; they tousled her hair. For forty-eight hours Szafir fought – trembling – coaxing her visions into neat piles –
– yet two visions would not cooperate.
Behind her, Łajdak emerged from the darkness – his black horse foaming and staggering. Before her, Leśnik rose on wings of green silk – swinging his axe and laughing. Rioting, bellowing, they circled in battle – while Szafir knelt in the darkness.
Szafir lifted her arms into the sky – pleading “More time! More time!” – but as the words rose into the night she cursed them. Forty-eight hours? Forty-eight weeks? It made no difference.
Hearts want what they want.
And as she stood, silence fell over the land and the sky. The rioters approached her in silence. A faint smile curled in the corner of Łajdak’s mouth – then twisted into a shriek.
Szafir fell at Leśnik’s feet, and she did not flinch before the axe fell.
Linked to the Fairy Tale Prompt – “Time” – at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie.