4 |
The Air Full of Eyes |
'Tis sunrise when Thrasja finishes sweeping the violin spiders from their nightly webs at the tavern. Ranilo pays her, presses a kerchief of tavern fare upon her: "For Audila." Departing, Thrasja walks towards the wharf. Streets monkey through The Bottle; she takes a left when an alley forks. Lately, she feels the sky too open, the air overbroad, the moon a baleful eye. Desperate times mean thieving; Thrasja fingers the knife in her kirtle. But: There's no one, she thinks. Still, she pauses watchful at her door. Nothing stirs. Sighing, she goes within to await her brother's return. |
Prompt: bottle, wharf, violin, moon, monkey, fork |