Finished the rewrite. It’s in the lap of the gods now. Sue’s photo prompt is as apposite as ever.
All has changed since Richard ordered the castle built on the promontory, but is that not always the way? Nothing except the salmon stays still in the current of a rushing river. Men build and other men pull down. Men make sons so they too may die in the same way as their fathers. She did not expect to see the tower as she remembers it, that it is now only a tumble of stones is not too hard to bear. But what digs deep into her heart like a flung javelin is the loneliness.
She remembers feeling the same loneliness at Dún Ailinne when the king and his company left with their banners and their feasting, to return to more comfortable houses where wives and children awaited them, a roaring fire in the hearth and hounds to greet them. The ancient seat of kings was a sorrowful place, ignored and abandoned unless a coronation required the dust to be chased outside, wall hangings shaken out, the mouse and bat droppings swept from the great table. When the ceremony was over, the dust returned and the solemn loneliness.
This is different. This was home, the castle built by the first of the Northmen for his wife and queen. There used to be love within these stone walls and the laughter of children, and if there were also tears, is that just not part of every story? She places a hand on the ruined sill where the wind from the sea blows and the rain blows. All gone. Even their names.
Another hand covers hers. She turns her head, away from the sadness of the lonely ruin, and his eyes are smiling, gentle and grey as ever. They know more than names, have lived more than love. She links her arm with his and they go back to join the wind blowing, the gulls crying, beyond laughter and sorrow.
Congratulations on the rewrite. Love the story!
It’s the second rewrite. I hope it will do!
I have no doubt it will do better than
just “do” !
I love those last couple of lines.
Does Sue have connections to the Oracle? 😉 Congratulations on finishing your rewrite!
Thank you! I think Sue is a sort of Oracle 🙂
🙂
It perfect 💜
I’m glad you like it Willow. I must try and get out of this story though…
Why it good, or do you mean move it on💜
I’ve been living in the Twelfth Century too long!
It might be better than living in this one which is a complete turn around 21st your in the 12th 💜
Longing in the wind and water for what were better, fuller days. These two at the sill, though, know something of present happiness, which seems based on knowing that there’s sadness in losing what was good, joy in loving what is wise and good–like love itself–in the present moment.
Such engaging work. I want to be there.
Yes. I usually do not read full on stories. But this is rich and drew me in.
Thank you. That’s good to know 🙂
😉
I love the description of home. Alive in every way. (K)
History lives, I suppose, as long as we remember, and what we don’t remember, we invent. Embroider, maybe is more accurate, because who really knows what went in those stone keeps?
Embroidery is a good word for it.
We do it with our own memories.
The gods I’m sure will be happy. As a mere mortal, I found it brilliant. Nicely done.
Thank you, Chris. The story is a great one. I hope (if it’s ever published) I come close to doing it justice.
This is wonderful, Jane.
I’m pleased you like it, Sue. I’m determined I’m going to make something of this story.
I really believe you will, Jane.
I do hope so. They deserve to have their story told.
And I want to read it…between the cvers of a printed book.
It’s in the lap of the gods now. Hope they’re feeling generous.
So do I.