I stare at you each evening once the servants have gone below. In this deepest part of my chamber, you are my hidden secret. Candlelight picks out your finer details, the flickering orange bringing you to life. But you don’t need any help do you? Little by little, hour by hour you fight against your bindings.
I still remember how you looked on that night. Your hair gathered neatly on the back of your head, not an auburn ringlet out of place. The scarlet-red dress only accentuated the shimmer in your eyes; it was as if you set the ballroom ablaze. All eyes were drawn to you, male and female, as you swayed across the floor giving everyone a precious few minutes of your time. From the opposite corner of the floor, I could hear your laugh call to me. Such a delicate sound but full of promise, of wonder.
It rings in my ears as I sit here now. I had been looking for you that night, you were my prize. It still amazes me how easy it was to draw you in; even now I suspect it is part of your plan, biding your time until I am unawares. That it is why I sit here every night. You shall not catch me unawares. I shall always watch over your prison. Your over-confidence was your un-doing but it shall not be mine. I know you are still trying to free yourself from the un-natural jail I trapped you within and I know some day you will escape. But know, that even if I am long gone, someone will be sat here, watching and waiting. The people of this land shall never know your terror again.
Written in response to the Mid-week Flash Challenge 112 on Finding Clarity