TIME TO CREATE

I am a performer.

I walk out into the Great Hall at Storm Castle and come to a standstill in front of the Queen.  The guards at either side of me are extras but I don’t need a supporting cast. 

This is my show.

The problem is that I don’t even get to play the part I want.  The true me.  The killer without a consciousness.   Instead, I have to pretend I’m sorry.

No chance. 

My eyes narrow on the Queen as she speaks and I stifle the urge to burst out laughing at this farce of a trial.  We all know how it will end.  I watch as Povack, the pompous ass, stands in front of me dressed like a decorated turkey and reads out the charges.  Looking beyond, I see the girl who was my mission in the crowd.  Biting her lip, the beat of her breath leaping in her throat.  As our eyes meet I smile as I appreciate that for her alone I can be me.

I drag my tongue along my teeth as the declaration is made and I hear her scream.  That delicious, chilling surrender and I feel an unexpected emotion – appreciation for her reaction.  I needed it. 

I am so bored.  

I am tired of being what everyone else wants me to be.  I am tired of society’s expectations.  I am done with doing something other than what I want.  I have had enough and I mean to do something about it.   

The drama of the extras ends and I am led away at the order of the King, if you could call him that.   I test the shackles around my wrists and know it is a matter of time until they are removed and I relish my freedom.

In the meantime, I am a performer and I am magnificent.

“Condemn me, deny me, it matters none,

The balance is gone, never to return,

I am but a shadow cast by all,

Yet man wonders why the mighty fall?

So when will the lamb lie with the lion?

That’s one prophecy I’ll never let happen”

Luther

The Kinship Chronicles