The tales of Prince Charming’s exploits are legion. The tales of his brother are less well known.
Prince Moribund approached the ruin on his mangy nag. The weary sun was just setting, highlighting the flicker of torchlight from the highest chamber of the surviving tower. The Prince peered into what had been the moat, now only a muddy ditch home to scavenging dormice. Gingerly he made his way across the rotting drawbridge, trying not to slip into the fetid muck beneath. Reaching the other side safely, Moribund slumped tiredly into a prone lump and began to snore.
No comments:
Post a Comment