A Thief's Fortnight

No man had come or gone in a fortnight. Had The Keeper known when the thief would come he surely would have sealed his Inn up tight. He dreamed about a thief who would come in the dead of night. Like a child she would crawl to him, picking locks along the way. And then she'd slip in and steal away the last pieces of his bleeding red heart. "Sit", she'd say. "Sit, my love and let me show you." He woke from that dream and felt only fear and dread. The days went by, and dreams turned to thoughts, and the pain of thoughts, until a thief's fortnight came. At last, The Keeper was locked away in his fortress Inn with its towering walls of icy stone. Then without a sound, she was there and stole from him his final waking breath. As the air escaped and his cries drowned in the echos of crashing stone, The Keeper closed his eyes and dreamed again of the thief he fears, loves, and hates. Like a siren she calls to him, calls him home and seals his fate.

-JF