The Flute

The Flute

Contributed by Robert Lyons

Pressure builds beyond the basic ability to pretend anxiety isn't gripping your chest.
A test you say?
As enemies await your failings and falls you are to be witnessed and examined?
Seems fate brings hard fortunes, unwarranted maybe, but warnings unheeded, deeds seemingly irrelevant except for ignorance and unawareness.
The contract is what's important.
Of course you have disdain, it is plain to see you did not want to believe such happenings.
The consequence being yours to now bear, the fear marching up through your spine, the time is now to pay the piper, twice for the song, play along, play along, the demons watch in throngs.
Their masters flute long and twisted, the fires lifting as his fingertips pull, the dull humming sound drifting past the full moons glare as you stare down the devil playing his game, you remember the deceit wrapped in a name, and the flute you play means you will take the blame as angels drop their trumpets down,\crystal clear rings your sound through the trees all around.
The ground shakes as hell's gate rushes closed.
Left under the lunar glow, a single red rose, the prize?
His, or your own demise…