Do you ever stop a little back from the car in the lane next to you when you come to an intersection, just so you can keep singing at the top of your lungs like a crazy person and not feel like some one's going to look over and see you?
Um, right. I would never do that either. Ever.
So, after a comment that last week's prompt was a little broad, I'm going to go for specific this week. Grab the nearest book. Open to page 14 (because that's my lucky number). Now find the fourth sentence (hopefully the author isn't too long winded, and there is a fourth sentence.)
That is your prompt for the week.
Remember to share your line with your comment, so we know where you're coming from. Enjoy!
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My response:
I grabbed CRUCIBLE OF GOLD by Naomi Novik. It's the seventh in her Temeraire series, and while I thought the last book was a little dragging, what I've read of this one is fantastic.
My line: "I am sorry, sir, but I will not be the Governments' butcher again."
Great line, right? Now for my response:
The throbbing in my head and a ray of dazzling sunshine brought me back to consciousness. My right arm was numb from lying on it, but when I tried to move, I realized why. The manacles were still there, cutting into the flesh of both my wrists. My left eye wouldn't open, and straw stuck to my right cheek when I tried to lift it from stone floor of the jail cell.
A long, desperate moan filled the air. It wasn't until the guard standing just outside the door chuckled that I realized the sound came from me.
The merciful sleep had fled, and I knew there was no quick way back. I tried to sit up. They'd stripped me of my boots, my vest, my belt, and my shirt before my lashes last night. My brown pants hung loose around my hips, the fine fabric ruined with blood and other bodily fluids. It took me nearly ten minutes to maneuver into a sitting position. Then I shut my eyes and concentrated on my blood still pulsing in my veins. Still alive.
Someone must have notified Prime Regent Kant that I was awake. It wasn't long before he came, an escort of six men and the jailer with him. In spite of my pain, I laughed. "Are you so afraid of me, sir?"
"I was always smarter than you, Breggan, if not stronger." Kant snapped a rolled up strip of leather into his palm. "But you're not stupid, either. You know what I'm here for. Now that you've seen just how expendable you really are, have you made your choice?"
I closed my eyes and let my head rock back and forth. "My choice. Yes, and an angel's blessed choice it is, sir! I am sorry, sir, but I will not be the Governments' butcher again."
"You think that what we've done to you is bad." Kant leaned in towards the bars of my cell, his voice dropping. "But what if we did nothing to you? In fact, what if we put you up somewhere nice ... say, in Theran's Hall?"
I shut my mouth, and a new flash of pain seared through my jaw from where some of my teeth had come loose last night. I managed to swallow down the manic laughter that shook my gut and wrenched my bruised muscles. What would be more fitting? To throw the government's attack dog into the very jail with the criminals he'd tracked? There wasn't a man in Theran's Hall who didn't hate me, who hadn't lost a brother, a blood friend, a father to my brand of justice.
Why did I have to grow a conscience? Just because the owner of the inn had been a woman instead of a man? Or because her green eyes flashed in the moonlight? Or because I believed her pathetic tale of how she'd been framed?
"Do with me what you will. I will not be your dog anymore." With what strength I had left, I spat at Kant, noting with satisfaction that I hit the breast pocket of his wool coat.
Kant roared. "Take him away!"
The cell doors clanged open and all six men came in, heaving my aching body off the floor and down the hall.
Kant's voice echoed in the hall behind me as they dragged me to my doom.
This one was rough. The closest book to me was The Norton Shakespeare. The line in question is: “The king was promptly excommunicated by the Pope, Clement VII.”
ReplyDelete“We must address the issues in England, Your Holiness. You cannot simply ignore the fact that Henry has taken matters into his own hands and annulled his marriage to Catherine. He married Anne Boleyn six months ago, Your Holiness.”
Pope Clement VII stood, dumbfounded. He still couldn’t believe that the upstart Englishman insisted on pushing him like this? Didn’t he realize how difficult his position was? Catherine is, after all, Emperor Charles’ aunt. It wasn’t that he didn’t sympathize with Henry’s plight. Though he had never seen her himself, Anne was reported to be quite lovely.
“Your Holiness? Are you feeling well? Perhaps you should sit down,” the Archbishop said, concern plastered on his face.
Clement shook his head gruffly. “I am fine,” he snapped embarrassed at having allowed his thoughts to wander in such an unholy manner. Immediately his face softened, “I am sorry, old friend. I am just having difficulty understanding how Henry can believe that he can go against the edict of the Church. It is almost unfathomable.
“Yes, Your Holiness. His interpretation of Leviticus is quite flawed, and his disregard for the Word of God is simply amazing. We have no choice, we must excommunicate him and call for his deposition and execution. He cannot be allowed to flaunt the Church!”
The Archbishop’s fire was quite admirable, thought, as usual, he saw the world in black and white, rather than the complex place that it was. “Depose and execute the King of England and Wales? Control yourself, my friend. We are in no position to enforce such an edict, and it would likely lead to war in England. A war which would open the door for Charles to further bleed the strength of Europe in an insane attempt to invade, and leave no strength here to repulse the Turks.”
“I am sorry, Your Holiness. But his actions must be answered!”
“Of course. Your suggestion of excommunication is shrewd. It worked well for Innocent III in that trouble with John. Prepare the papers, Archbishop. Henry will see that he cannot ignore Papal decrees. He will come crawling back on his knees soon enough!”