THE FALL QUEEN
By Melissa L. Webb
She crept through the trees, watching bonfires burn brightly in the night air around her; each one lit in her honor. The festivities here tonight would too be in her honor.
It was again that time of year. Time for the trees to shed their dead and the harvest to be ripe. She watched as the people carved some of the harvest, adding candles as they went. What a glorious night this was.
She trembled with excitement as she crept closer to the heart of the village. Wonderful aromas filled the air, turning the world into a blur of apples, cinnamon, and nutmeg. She sighed as she breathed it in. This was perfection. The village was hard at work, preparing for the feast tonight. It was a special one…and it was all for her.
She turned quickly as more wood was thrown on the fires, stoking the flames higher. The wood crackled, sending sparks into the air. Time was drawing nearer. The veil was thinning as the night became darker. Soon, she would take her rightful place. This was her night. Her night alone.
Here she was Queen, and those around her would bow to her as she walked through this night, regal yet determined; claiming what was hers.
She slipped quietly back into the shadows, waiting with a smile on her lips. It was good to be Death.
© 2011 Melissa L. Webb
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