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Challenge of the Month XV: June
Revenge Fantasy. Write a revenge fantasy. Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or Prose. $100 purse to our favorite entry. Outstanding entries will be shared with our publishing partners.
Cover image for post Iron Sword (trigger warning- abuse), by VT_Poetess
Profile avatar image for VT_Poetess
VT_Poetess
192 reads

Iron Sword (trigger warning- abuse)

The pungent froth of evening tide

caressed my weary toes

as golden sands of Surya's Pride

chafed restlessly below.

Soft footprints, fleeting, ebbed away,

dispatching mid-life strife,

alongside revelers that sang

a happy birthday rhyme.

Balloons on strings trailed merrily

behind the boist'rous girls,

whose cake-smeared smiles' ecstasy

outshone their baby pearls.

My green-eyed gaze burned through the crowd,

o'er presents piled high,

when sirens screeched like hawks on scout

within my wounded mind.

'Pon rubber legs besmote by wind,

compelled, I crossed the beach,

his scent exhumed from mem'ries dimmed

by time's succ'ring concrete.

My dinner roiled up my throat

and ghostly pain stabbed deep

as children blindly stood too close

to vice disguised as meek.

Fresh waves of filth crashed through my veins,

then streaked down crimson cheeks,

betraying the enduring shame

I earned when /I/ was three.

'Oh, Papa, come. You play with us,'

a guileless pixie begged;

her trusting dimples froze my pulse

and turned my vision red.

Resolved to save that precious soul

from deviant abuse,

I closed moist lids to wrest control

and bind the trauma bruise.

Between the space of heartbeats' whoosh,

revenge played out the scene

I'd dreamt of since I'd understood

the wrong he'd done to me:

~I melt his bloody, iron sword

right off its tarnished hilt,

then quench it in the ocean's roar

and watch him writhe with guilt.~

Profound regret blew through my lips

in lieu of vi'lent deeds

and fantasy was fast eclipsed

when opened eyes revealed

a withered monster, long past prime,

who paused and held my stare-

his look contrite for heinous crimes,

it pled for me to spare.

Protectiveness at war with hope,

like mountain trees fight storms,

I slid my finger 'cross my throat-

a gesture to forewarn.

The solace that my silence lent

eased furrows on his brow-

a conscience firmly on the mend

while /my/ hell was aroused.

Yet, as they passed, the blazing sun

was quenched by turquoise waves

and to forgiveness I succumbed

as moonlight took its place.

*critical feedback desired*

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