Concave Convex

Measured, clacking sounds of high-heels can be heard walking towards an elegantly decorated hall; illuminated only by the sun’s rays streaming down from glass panels, grand frescoes decorating its concave ceiling. Two imposing guards stationed at the entrance saluted as she passed by, stopping before the foot of a raised dais. “My Lady.” She reverently said, bowing deeply to the woman sitting on the throne. Eyes lazily opened and a smirk slowly forming on her tinted lips. “So it's time.” ••••• How does one act when luck granted power unimaginable. To rule? Become rich? Murder? Decisions one makes have consequences. And there’s always a catch.

“From off a hill whose concave womb re-worded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tun'd tale; Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. Upon her head a platted hive of straw, Which fortified her visage from the sun, Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw The carcase of a beauty spent and done. Time had not scythed all that youth begun, Nor youth all quit; but, spite of Heaven's fell rage Some beauty peeped through lattice of sear'd age. Of” Excerpt From A Lover's Complaint William Shakespeare https://books.apple.com/pk/book/a-lovers-complaint/id498662218 This material may be protected by copyright.