Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
“In this age of laughter, a jester is king.” Rakelkie lounged on the throne as he spoke, twirling a crown about two of his fingers.
“Laughter, laughter everyone.” Tralile said. She sauntered past flicking the back of his ear. “And not a joke untold.”
Rakelkie rubbed his ear and huffed at Tralile. “I take it, dear one, you’ve a new vision?”
She glanced over her shoulder with a grin. A quirk of her eyebrow that was half smirk and half a laugh itself. “Do I ever lack vision?”
He waved away the comment. “And that it rebukes my supremacy as the jester?”
She nodded.
“But you made me jester.” He straightened abruptly, his feet striking the ground in a rancorous thud.
Tralile turned back and clasped her hands. “One age must give way to another.”
“Then what, pray tell dear one, am I to give way to?”
Tralile motioned to a guard waiting nearby. Hurrying forward he carried a silver bowl filled with water. Tralile took it from him, muttering over it and approaching Rakelkie.
He took the bowl, the metal warm in his hands and rested it in his lap. Within he saw a graveyard, and a girl dressed in gray crying before a tomb.
“We must find her,” Tralile said. “She is the next queen.”
Rakelkie looked up from the bowl and scowled at Tralile. “I don’t think I’ll enjoy this age.”
She flicked the back of his ear again. “I don’t care. Come along.”
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