It's Still Life

At an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Part 24 Walking the Deep Greys

last week: Hanzō is bowing deeply before him … and Pierre asks, “Who are you?”

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“He’s Hanzō, he’s a relic, he’s Drake’s,” my answer is faintly audible, and Pierre’s eyes are hollowed by the weariness of too many questions – and even though I empathise, I don’t have the words in me to offer further explanation.

I gather up the onion skin ashes from Connor’s curse, and add a pinch of salt; the ash turns sludge black as it touches my skin – my hand funnels the ash into a glass vial that I seal with warm candle wax.

Hanzō is motionless, but his mind is a dark sky filled with noisy birds as he studies my face, and he watches Pierre’s hand reach for mine.

“Have you crossed the line from light to dark in doing this?” asks Pierre, and I can’t look at him, not now, not into his dark hooded eyes.

“It’s grey – I walk a deep grey line,” I glance away, pocket the vial and silently walk out the door, deafening myself to their words chasing after me.

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Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story, include the word “relic”. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.