1-13-15 Writing Warm-up

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1-13-15 Writing Warm-up

Brought to you by Four Fools Press: “Crazy Good Stories”

Tender Mother of the People

Whose tears water sad hearts

With new joy beyond death

Give your servant mercy

From your abundant love

Through this tender token--

I will give back to you,

I will fulfill what I’ve spoken.

The chamber welcomed all who entered with the comfort of warmth and darkness. Little adorned the space within the tranquil gloom. One could only see a large cushion by a stone column that did not reach higher than a meter. The pillar possessed a smooth depression on its surface, roughly the shape of a curved shell. These centerpieces also had the only light about them, a soft glow that seemed to drift down from the ceiling.

A priestess guided the royal woman into the tender incandescence. The lady closely held some carefully wrapped linens in her arms, which concealed her most precious possession. The attendant gestured for the mistress to sit on the cushion. Then, she gently lifted the swaddled present from the maiden’s arms and placed it gingerly on the pillar. A thin mist flickered across the lady’s eyes. The priestess slipped into the gloom and disappeared.

The silence and warmth of the room effaced time of reference and reason. Hours would feel like aeons, and yet without wear and tiring. The lady and her gift, however, only held their quiet vigil for a few moments. A voluptuous shadow moved gracefully toward the two. The woman approaching swayed in a gentle, serpentine fashion. Her headdress spread forth like a peafowl’s plumes and danced with her hushed steps. When the light fell upon her form, the radiance unveiled a being both terrible and beautiful.

The Mother of All had come.

Chiton plated most of her body, especially her extremities and throat. Her exposed skin whispered of beauty and lushness. Long tentacles flowed from her head, while upon her brow many amber slit eyes studied everything. Her gaze had an esoteric, indecipherable quality. She stopped before the stand and looked upon the crimson bundle. The mistress rose from her cushion and bowed her head.

“M’lady, thank you for answering your servant’s plea. I have come to fulfill my vow.”

The maiden unwrapped the package before returning to her pillow. She bowed her head, cloaking her face in shadow. The Mother-of-All reached with a menacing claw and tenderly scooped the treasure from the pillar. Ivory more smooth and of a greater sheen than elephant’s tusk bore elegant ruby traceries; these scarlet decorations mimicked the All-Mother’s own form. Twin emeralds reflected back her jeweled amber sight. She smiled, unsheathing tightly arranged rows of serrated spikes.

A daughter for the All-Mother was truly a most precious gift to receive.

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If you enjoyed the poem in today's Writing Warm-up, you'll LOVE our latest AMAZON BESTSELLING release, Sketchbook of Scrivenings! It's chock full of thrilling verses like this one. Check out the link below!

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