Apr 9, 2018

The Chosen




In the beginning so very long ago

was a funny shaped little lamp with a green glow.

A pirate's treasure, riches beyond your dreams

lay deep in the sand, the lamp buried beneath.

As the shadows of the night slowly across the shore

He walked the beach as he had many times before.

Frustration and anger, he ran his toes through the sand,

Kicking it, spreading it all around.

Then he ran, such freedom if only for now,

Soon he would really be free somehow.

In the distance he heard a yell,

Uh oh, there come Uncle Paul with the belt.

What now? What had he done?

But there never had to be a reason with this one.

He loved the power as the belt hit skin,

And once he started it took so long to end.

He was the worst all together, there had been three

they called them his foster family.

A slave that's all he was,

Never peace, never quiet, never any love.

Still he knew soon he would leave,

or at least that's what he wanted to believe.

But his dreams were over for now; his peace had been disturbed,

And as always with yells and harsh words.

His shaggy blonde hair was swirling his face as he ran

And he tried to brush it back with his hand.

Most of his youth he had been fleet of foot, fast and sure,

For his nightmares that had been his cure.

It hadn't been easy moving from place to place,

And so far, he had found no escape.

For the first time in memory his leg gave way,

and he landed right on his face.

But he didn't stop. He was sinking; the sand was pulling him under,

And when he reached bottom he gazed in wonder.

Treasure, as far as his vision could behold,

Trinkets, silver, even gold.

He shut his eyes and envisioned the blood, the ships defeat,

For there had been no mercy, nor chance for retreat.

Each piece told its own story and he knew them all

He felt their surroundings he felt them call.

He was the chosen he would lead

To arms, he had the money the King would need.

Too much terror not including his own,

Invaded this land he called home.

So many battles and the most they had lost,

But now with this treasure they could win them all.

Suddenly a bright green glow, rays filling the air,

Capturing the boy and holding him there.

No movement, though he tried to escape,

But as the rays tightened, he knew movement was a big mistake.

He was terrified and closed to tears,

Even Uncle Paul, hadn't instilled this much fear.

He shivered as icy fingers touched his skin,

Such a chill along with a harsh wind.

Sand, gold and silver dust flew through the air,

sparkling, landing in his blonde hair.

He couldn't breathe, he was gasping, slowly suffocating,

He fell then he knew nothing.

Darkness. Darkness everywhere surrounding the cave,

Strange forces surrounding from long past graves.

He awakened to screams; he heard the earth shattering cries,

He felt the fear as he watched one of his men die.

Yes, his men. He was dressed in black armor, lance in hand,

On the bloody battlefield two hundred men to command.

The Duke of Sarcey now near to death,

Applied to the king only one last request.

"My daughter must be spared my land must be saved,

I have served you well my king, please before I rest in my grave."

His wish was granted for he spoke the truth,

Duke Searcy had been with him since their youth.

Aye but now the Dukes brother a scoundrel to say the least,

Had kidnapped the Dukes daughter with no plan of release.

He paid a priest with ill-gotten gains,

His wish to marry the daughter giving her his name.

Once his all her possessions would turn to him by right,

For the man had all the power over his wife.

Maniacal laughter as he imprisoned her in the dungeon,

Dark, and dreary, and an odor quite pungent.

No food, no water, along with the company of rats,

All alone in a blood -stained corner she sat.

She could hear the chains rattle from the ghost before,

The deepest groans trying to escape through deaths door.

Desolate cries captured her soul

Yells and screams, please let me go.

She held her hands over her ears to ease the voices that surrounded,

But louder they became, and her terror mounted.

How long must she stay here in the deepest pits of hell?

How long must she suffer the sounds of deaths spell?

Tears trailed along her darkened face,

Oh, how she longed to be released from this place.

A day passed then another, and another and more,

Alone and forgotten she withered away staring at deaths door.

Close now, so close she could see the image of her mother,

And there was her father the one that raised her and loved her.

She tried to reach for them tried desperately to walk towards the


But they shook their heads sadly and walked out of sight.

Over and over in her head she screamed,

"Mother, father please, come back for me"

She had neither, tears left to cry, nor a voice left to moan,

Closing her eyes, she dreamed of home.

The trellis of yellow roses, the peonies in full bloom,

The smell of daffodils and the grass covered in silver drops of dew.

"Find her men, we must find her before it is too late,"

The young boy said as they stormed the castles gates.

But then he was no longer the young boy, but a knight of the king,

Back in time, the chosen, the knight of peace.

His name was Sir Christopher loyal and true,

Head knight for the king there was nothing he couldn't do.

They had won the battle bravely fought,

But the scoundrel escaped, and he must be caught.

Once inside the castles gates another battle begun,

But it wasn't very long before Sir Christopher had them on the run.

They began a search of the castle first one room then another,

And in the east wing behind a curtain the scoundrel was discovered.

He would not tell his secret he vowed with his last breath,

The girl was hidden well he vowed as he fell from the window to his


He screamed in terror as he struggled through the air,

A slip of his foot ah yes justice was fair.

Each room was searched, each trunk, each closet, each nook,

Where could she be, they had run out of places to look?

But no, wait. He heard a noise the rattling of chains,

Quickly he walked tracking the noise from where it came.

A secret passage, but how to enter?

Nothing, no clues, except for a lone nail marking the center.

He pulled the nail; the wall began to move to the right,

He reached for a candle for the scene was darkness of night.

Slowly he walked five of his men followed,

Twas scary down here and they deeply swallowed.

There were rows upon rows of iron barred cells,

Blood stained floors and they gagged at the smell.

But on they continued for he had a feeling they neared their goal,

And as he spied her his blood ran cold.

Her lifeless body lay twisted upon the cold cement floor,

And he took his axe cutting the lock off the cell door.

The first mission he had ever failed, and he gazed at her in sorrow,

He had to take her above now his regrets could wait for the morrow.

He picked her up ignoring the smell of her withered flesh,

And thought for a moment he felt a trace of breath.

Yes, there again it was he must hasten for fresh air,

He sent Tudor for the doctor as he practically ran up the dungeons


The scoundrel's maid during the battle hidden from view,

Saw the happenings and ran into the room.

She had not known of the girl and her fear of the scoundrel was great,

The dungeon was also a mystery, or she would have snuck the girl a


Near to starving poor little thing and my goodness how she smelled,

She ran to heat some water for a bath and salve for her welts.

Some chicken broth to appease her hunger and water for her thirst,

And the maid prayed she got better instead of any worse.

The doctor thought her lucky surviving as she did,

He thought she was going to die but these thoughts he hid.

Days, weeks, and months turned to years,

Though she still had nightmares she had little fear.

Sir Christopher remained with the girl he loved,

And thanks to the little green lantern never returned to the land


The king gave his blessing they were married in June,

Wed in her garden the Peonies in full bloom.

Peace filled the kingdom Sir Christopher bringing it about,

Did they live happily ever after? You figure it out.


© Cynthia Clark

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