This 8-10 sentence blog hop is hosted by The Weekend Writing Warriors. (Click the link for the list of participants, or rules if you want to join!)
This is from a WIP, with the placeholder name of “Bluebeard,” very loosely based on that fairy tale. Every year on the Winter Solstice, a sorcerer takes a sixteen-year-old girl as his bride, divorcing her and exiling her before he takes a new bride the next year.
Summary: The sorcerer Aamir “Mire” has married the narrator, Gwyn, spelled them into his tower, and she’s not adjusting so well to being cooped up–wandering around and asking questions.
He showed me how to sprint from one side of the room to the other, pushing off the wall to help me turn. “Faster! Again!”
A snap of command rang in his voice, and I found myself obeying until I was dripping in sweat, my legs trembling.
“Over here,” he herded me to the larger second cabinet, opening it to reveal a variety of different sized shelves, and an assortment of objects perfectly fit into each one. He grabbed a rolled rug and shoved it at me.
My fingers closed around it just before he let go, and I followed him to the center of the room.
“Lay it flat here, then sit.”
I paused at his tone, which had veered from commanding to condescending, but I knelt on the rug.
* * *
This story is very loosely based on Bluebeard. The sorcerer is cursed, and the brides are caught up in the curse, though the nearby villagers don’t know how or why. He keeps the kingdom safe with his magic, and his brides tie him to a land he couldn’t otherwise protect. There are other ways to do this tying–but his curse demands a bride.