Untying The Not,
by William Morgan
I sliced, slashed, pierced, asked,
” Where is my son?”
It smirked. I grinned. Showed it my other knife.Created of pure silver. Emptied my savings to have it made.
Fear in it’s eyes.
I carved, flayed. It screamed. I whispered,
“Where is my son?”
The cuts burned. Charred the wounds. It cried. Begged. I severed.
“WHERE IS MY SON!”
It told.
“Proof, need proof.” It gibbered, screeched as I hacked, chopped. It showed me proof, and how to enter the land of fairyfolk.
With proof I can convince the others. Then we’ll gather up our weapons.
And prepare for war.
