The Prick of a Needle

A Story by Amanda R

The prick of a needle meets her finger

As her lips become crimson as the moon

Her body sways as her shadow lingers

Falling into evergreen trees by mid noon

The king escaped the wrath of the oggerress

Pleading and insearch of lust he spots trees

Trees of evergreen, lay the girl, in focus

Where crows hummed their tune, silent were the bees

Upon the view the king undoubtedly stew

Reminded of the old battered high-witch

Who cursed the girl to fall beneath the shrew

His eyes welled with tears and his heart bewitch

His tears wiped the crimson off of the girl

The bees began to hum the crows tune had stopped

And as the trees shriveled the girls skin turned pearl

The pearly girl began to wake and spotted

Spotted the king and kissed his reddened lips

The king turned crimson, away the girl she skips