Gregory Pettigrew (etherial) wrote,
Gregory Pettigrew

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As the sun began to set, a tired white horse and its equally tired rider returned to their castle. The Knight was wearing shining mail of plate and chain, with an exquisite helmet of purest alabaster white. The horse wore barding of finest quality, and carried its rider effortlessly, for they were tired not from a burden of weight, but a burden of the heart. They had failed in their quest.

The Knight walked his steed to its stable and stripped it of the now useless vestments. He fed it, watered it, and rubbed its tired muscles. It had faced hardship on their quest and deserved the best care, though they had failed.

He turned and saw the demon in the sky. It was silhoutted - back lit by the now orange sun, awaiting the Knight's demise. It was smiling.

He reluctantly trudged up the castle stairs to his chambers in the tower, and stripped himself of his vestments. These were tossed aside. Unlike the horse, a living breathing animal, these were only things, and would do no good to anyone anymore.

He unbarred the thick wooden doors that granted him protection from arrows, and stepped out onto the balcony. The demon was there, awaiting his surrender.

"I cannot defeat you, demon. I have searched all the lands as far and wide as I dared, and there were no damsels in distress, no maidens to rescue, no peasants to defend. All is right in the world outside these walls and I cannot make things aright here. My people have left, my fields lay fallow, and tomorrow my steed shall leave. It cannot help me now. I surrender."

The demon laughed as only demons can. They say that even demons can take a pleasing shape, but this is terrible falsehood. Demons ALWAYS have a pleasing shape, and this one had the voice of a cherub. For cherub it was. The demon Cupid looked down on the poor knight and smiled. It held in its arm a terrible weapon that struck fear into the hearts of all, for not only was its sting painful, but it was more painful to never be hit.

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