Father Figure

This is Part 12 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.

Arastia was quietly sobbing as she led me back to the palace. My instinct was to comfort her, but I held off, waiting to see if this was just another ploy to manipulate me.

The palace was cold, dark and devoid of people. The cavernous rooms echoed with the sound of our movements.

Suddenly my wife stopped before a statue. It was ancient and towered high into the air. A inscription read, “Ur*, The King of Kya-Shar, Lord of The Island of In-Between”.  The Bull.

The figure was intimidating, even when cut from stone. I had met him on two occasions only. He was Arastia’s father.

‘His magic is failing,’ she whispered. ‘His wanes, while mine grows. He blames me. And somehow I must…fix it.’

‘What does that have to do with me?’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I need your help. He has taken my son, Lyr…Our son.’

~ ~ ~

* “Ur” is the name of a rune in the Elder Futhark (a runic scripts) and means “aurochs”, a now extinct breed of very big cattle, or “wild ox”

Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #12 – This week the story is dead on the word limit of 150…

7 thoughts on “Father Figure

  1. That’s shivered my spine. You must be hitting all the right notes. Nice one. 🙂
    And I see you realised my reference to Ur. :).
    It amused me to offer you this photo, set to guard the honour of the Boleyn family, even though it’s nelieved Anne Boleyn never lived here. 🙂
    And so to next week ….

    Liked by 1 person

      • As I say, still possible. After all, I swear there’s a grey friar who hops in my bed every so often. I assume for my warmth. He was probably the granary-master, since my place was built around the ruins of the priory’s granary, and even includes old beams ‘mined’ frome the old granary. Jacobean merchants were a tight-fisted lot, salvage all and everything they could, including the ghosts. Though with the merchant’s family being in close cahoots with Cromwell, I’m not sure it’s right to call them Jacobean. Reformationists and puritans more like.

        Liked by 2 people

      • And I’ve never seen it. And there could be some totally ordinary explanation. It’s more a felt presence, and a coldness.
        In defence of my otherworldly conclusion, it must be said that over recent years both a close relative and a very dear friend have visited me within 3 days of their death ro ask if I’d ‘any last words?;
        It seems I’m one of those people who really don’t don’t want to believe, and yet see, to attract these inexplicable weirdities. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.