The Danger of Words
Shana stared at the wall. Something was scrawled on the faded paint – pale words…
“Unfold, come to us.”
She glanced at the people hurrying by, their faces pinched by the cold. She looked back to the wall. The words were gone, erased by a weak finger of sunlight.
She sagged momentarily then her breath quickened.
“The Queen is dead, long live our Queen.”
The sun strengthened. The words faded to nothing. Only the stark shadows of the cables remained.
Shana turned away. Something was calling her.
Drawing up her collar she pushed through the nameless walkers.
She reached the river and stared at its frozen surface. Below the ice a finger appeared. Her heart pounded.
“The future is your past, our Queen. Follow the path.”
Reality escaped her. She felt her soul soar. Wherever this path led, she wanted to go. The sun pierced the morning mists and touched her for one brief moment. The world spread out below her, an inky wash dappled by winter sunshine. She closed her eyes to it as words flowed around her, absorbing her.
Tucked away in the newspaper was a small article.
“The body found on Monday morning was that of Shana Connor. The circumstances surrounding Ms Connor’s death remain a mystery.”
Barry Jordan glanced up from his morning paper and stared at the grey wall in front of him. He thought he saw something scrawled in the grime.
“Do not unfold. You are not their King. I was not their Queen.”