Qin

Forced into her rusty armor—a foreign child to this land where fantasy still thrives:
A country where dreams and desires are fulfilled by “grant.”
She’s the unwanted, unheard stranger in a village full of heroes and heroines
Trotting on their flawless mares with horseshoes of gold and silver lined saddles
Illusions of grandeur which they all uphold—chivalric as they think they are
A sacrifice must be made to their benevolent king--
And broken toys and forgotten dolls are more useful as kindling
Than simply thrown away with the dead.

“Don’t forget to scream loudly” they said
“You are the sacrifice but you must help It work up the appetite to eat you”
The children giggle while they skip merrily up toward the cave which contrasts the rippling grass.
Already they’ve started the burning—books with humans; humans with books.
To the ignorant, affluent, jealous, and bitter each seems equally evil.
“We’re preparing them both for hell”
The young girl simply stares at her looming mausoleum and feigns deafness to the wails
“We deliver them to the king, long may It live, alive—he’s acquired quite the pallet for suffering.”

Abandoned with the thinnest steel plating and her arms bound, she begins to walk forward
Accepting her fate is easier than she expected—perhaps d.eath is better than her life
Easily betrayed by the echoes of the cave walls, her own shadow moves to stab her in the back.
With a glint of scales she is roasted and seasoned with the blood of the child before her
Spit from the mouth of the dragon, long may It live, with a single page from a story book.
The first and final sentence she reads screaming in agony while her life begins to turn to ash
Once upon a time…