My unnamed story

Okay, I thought I might add a bit from the story I am writing since we all seem to be in a sharing mood today. :)

Please be gentle, it's a first draft.

Ishmia watched as her lord father brought the prisoners to the front of the hall. The hall itself was large, formidable in it's own right with statues of animals once living lining the walls and townsfolk murmurring anxiosly along the banner carpet that led from the door to the Chair of Justice. Only her father could sit this seat, although Ishmia doubted many men felt the desire to sit here. Or perhaps many men did, hearts burning for the power and justice it held for any percieived wrong doings against them.

The prisoners were shackle bound, moving in a line slowly with trepidation plain on their faces. Her lord father was known to be just but also to have no sympathy for outlaws. One prisoner was a boy roughly her own age with a shaggy mop of black hair and large, almost all seeing blue eyes. He didn't seem scared though, not as the others looked. In fact, he looked brave, perhaps more brave than any of the knights at her fathers side.

“My grace, these are the theives and murderers we found outside of Brogan's pub the night the innkeeper was slain. Also his wife and small child were beaten and the woman raped. The charges stand before them of murder, theivery, ill knowing of a woman and brutality.” her father's lawyer stated in front of the court. Many of the townsfolk began to murmur amongst themselves. Some said they deserved to be beaten and raped themselves. Others wanted them fed tot he castle dogs. Not a single one called for mercy, as there was little of it to be spared for such an offense.

King Roule looked down at the captives, his face a hard mask and his brilliant, green eyes appearing to peer through their very soul. “What say you to these charges? Who speaks for you?” And as their speaker began to beg for mercy the face became harder, colder and his ears closed off to the pleas.

Ishma couldn't help noticing the boy said nothing. He seemed to look past all of them, lost in his own thoughts or concentrating on a crack in the wall. Ishma couldn't help wondering why he didn't plead with the rest. Perhaps he knew he was guilty and was ready to pay for his sins. He did not cry, or beg and in fact said no words at all, which made Ishma curious. Undoubtedly even if she were guilty she would beg for mercy!

The King's voice boomed out over those who would have him show a grace they had not, “Silence!” He looked down at them all, surveying each face with care. “I have not heard innocence from the lot of you. No man here has claimed to not have raped, stolen or murdered. I hear promises and I hear cries of mercy. Mercy you shall have as I will not make you wait for your punishment. By the morrow's sunset you will hang from the walls of the weeping towers, a reminder that lawbreaking in this kingdom will not be abided. It is done, take them away.” the King said, anger clear on his face.

When her lord father said “It is done.” this was a final say, Ishma knew. Something told her there was more to the story of the boy, and to find this out she must move quickly.

    You're a great writer! Is more of the story already shared somewhere on here?
    About Melissa
    Birth: December 31
    On since: Mar 3, 2014
    I am a single mom of two fantastic kiddos that I love to pieces. Currently in school working towards my teaching degree. You can find me most days on when I am not here chit chatting! :)