Three Line Tales : Midas touch


three line tales, week 128: a golden person

photo by Sharon McCutcheon via Skillshare


 

The royal apartments lay heavy under the stench of a hundred fires. He’d opened the shutters the evening before, sat shivering at the window seat as the sharp stink of burning wood, the tang of hot metal – even the sweat of the founders – fouled the air.

How was his love? Fretful, sleepless, on her knees in prayer? He closed his eyes at the thought of her wasted frame chafed by a rough flax shift, just as he closed his eyes to the note she had passed the jailer. That wavering handwriting – so changed from the sinuous curves of her early love letters – crawled through his nights, scratched at his tranquility like a fleshing knife.

The judgement had been unanimous, it was out of his hands. And the punishment for treason had remained the same since his great grandfather’s time. But he was still the king – one word to the executioner had been enough. Molten gold would replace lead.


Written for Three Line Tales. See the pic and send a link here.

I know this is a horrible end, but it is not without historical precedent. According to Smithsonian.com both the Ancient Romans and South American tribes used molten gold as a method of execution. Though perhaps not KIng Midas himself.

 

 

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