I wander the mist
of what is between
as I strain to glimpse
that which is unseen

the path before me
is narrow and tight
the air is thick
I carry no light

ghosts hover and dance
deep in that strange mist
shapes that frolic so
and cavort and twist

and a sound I hear
from out of the gloom
voices of laughter
of mirth and my doom

“What, ho!” I let shout
“would you have me for?”
and then … silence
for they sing no more

no weapon on hand
and no charm nor spell
helpless against them
if they nay meant well

a sheen to my side
brighter than the rest
takes form of a man
in his courtly best

from behind his mask
he spies with one eye
the other is dead
shriveled and dry

he offers his hand
clad crimson and white
and all I can do
is nay run in fright

“A good draw, my friend.”
he says with a grin
“With me at your hand,
you are sure to win.”

and with that he does step
right off of the path
I follow meekly
for I fear his wrath

as the howls come
followed by their hosts
the knight does reply
with jabs and boasts

his arm sweeps a pass
through the forming hoard
leaving behind naught
but his gleaming sword

then out of the dark
steps the knight’s own twin
not trimmed in scarlet
but obsidian

they clash with a roar
with thunder, with steel
neither can gain ground
in this even deal

“Low or high this hand,
I need you in play!”
the red knight does shout
as I see him sway.

with courage unbidden
I leap to his side
empty hands, at best
bards could sing, “He tried…”

but the ruse pays well
as the twin does shift
he dubs me a threat
lets his swordpoint drift

before I can blink
the dark twin falls dead
the white of his cloth
turning a bright red

the knight points his sword
to a trail yonder
“Now take this way home.
Don’t pause to ponder.”

only a short jaunt
and now I am free
and see my dear home
standing before me

as I splash my face
beside the cool stream
I begin to doubt
was it naught but dream?

my eyes are drawn down
cards tucked in my belt
the Ace and the Jack
the hand I was dealt

————-

Black is yet again the bad guy. *sigh* Spades is actually my favorite suit, but the rhyming worked better with it this way.
Originally posted on Wil Wheaton’s Soapbox. Edited here slightly.