Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Four Hundred and Forty-Nine

She called them Her helpers, with their buzzing wings and tiny stings, they were Her eyes and ears across the kingdom. And She loved them.

Her subjects feared them and her children loathed them, but none dared touch so much as a wingtip for fear of Her wrath.

Until the day She had the child of the wrong man killed. It took him fifty years to build Revenge. The day it took flight he sang his own death song.

Mortality landed on Her delicate finger and as She kissed its jewelled wings its sting closed her throat and She died.

©️jj 2020

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