Semi-True Stories Pt. VI (The Final Chapter)

Monsters without a name have turned the sky above to ash, as stone towers crash into winding streets. Monarchs and gods who spent their lives robbing our pockets and our faith are caught within castles and churches. The countryside lurches. We bleed through cloth tourniquets

and dragons above
turn late autumn weather
into a furnace,
deep breaths
hell-bent on
burning us

The girl looks for
a sign she’s no predestined
bride to survival, but all the
arrows pointing her
home have been
ripped from
the ground as reprisal.

Stealing a carriage, she comes across dead parents sheltering their offspring from the fire raining down, the town she grew up in reduced to smoldering embers.

(A winged beast shot down,
its corpse lands in
a mound of hay, burning most of the
straw away.)

Rushing past giant trolls, whose feet burn with warts that prevent them chasing the horses, the girl makes a return to the cave to undo her gravest mistake. The key’s still where she forced it right, and with all of

her scrawny might,
commits herself
to sacrifice, disintegrating
with the light that’s made
worse men

that her
will use as the
basis for their


Come tomorrow morning (when our kings are found perished and the gods that crowned them look on, embarrassed) we’ll only be mourning her bravery.

An errand girl
who risked the world to
unite us against
our spineless
differences and
militant droll.

This version of such
events is the
one I know.

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