Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Three Hundred and Ninety-Six

There was no point in resisting, and no good crying. What would be would be, although she could have done without the knife at her throat. She must have pleased him, because he let none of the others have her.

“Sleep,” he said almost kindly, “in the morning I will be gone.”

But when sunrise came he discovered his mistake.

The raiders were not destined to leave, instead, they were chained forever to the wheel that lifted water to irrigate the lady’s garden.


If the night belongs to the men in their longships, morning brings the vengeance of women.

©jj 2019

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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

Start a Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: