Poem, Sagas, Short story

A stray.

What could she do, that red haired girl, with but a smile and a raised eye. As wars and hatreds which rage as a passionate flame, she is as strife in human form.

Ought she be a creature not of human blood, than surely she is as a temptress to plague the souls of the enraptured, and the pockets of those who would stray.

But a night of her time with a heart of golden joy she would promise and be as once pleased. But come the morning her price must be paid, in terror, in fear and coin.

And woe betide the one who would stray from their own home to spend but a night with that girl. Forsaken by Gods for not keeping their oath, and forsaken at home by the spurned.

Those who seek to spend but a night with such beauty and lust as storm, remember very well that come the day, the damage of storms will be seen.

 

 

 

A prompt response.

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