A line of shuffling, broken men, bound with ankle chains stretched to the horizon.
Whips cracked, drawing cries of pain and shredding already bleeding backs into gore drenched ribbons.
Grimbauld urged his horse to where the slave master watched him cautiously.
“These men fought against me with honour. Unchain them.”
“Says who?!”
The masters lips were still twisted in a sneer as his decapitated head fell to the ground.
“Our king will hear of this,” one of the slavers babbled as he loosened the manacles.
“Tell him Grimbauld awaits his vengeance.”
He turned to the men.
“Follow me to freedom.”
So, a special thanks again to
for the prompt word “Chains” for this weeks story : -I couldn’t quite manage it in 80 words though, so sorry about that Miguel! However, I do always say a story is only as long as it needs to be and this one needed 100 words. Obviously, there’s a lot more I could say on the subject of this tale, but hopefully the words speak for themselves.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading. Until next time.
Ah, Grimbauld returns... to break the chains. I can only repeat myself. These vignettes will make a great long-form tale one day! ;)
Fantastic, Dan. I say that a lot here, but it's truly the case.
You compress these into such right and visceral details. So visual.
I second Alexander in that I'd love to have a Grimbauld story in a long-firm tale. Someday, I hope. ;)
Favourite line: shredding already bleeding backs into gore drenched ribbons.