The island they treaded every day, hour, minute, second, was actually owned. Not by the westerners that had come but by a creature, born in the depths of time and living in the world of sleep. Kept alive by a flame of evil licking its wicked heart and melting its iron ore heart. This creature that had slept for over 50 billion years in this land, deep under the earth, just where the land touches magma with remorse. One day, that was a mere grain of sand for his clock, the men put a pole deep into the earth. The pole disturbed Gea and she twisted in agony to wake the dreaded beast. He woke, every movement a stab from the wicked knife of suffering. He came to the middle floor to see who dared walk his land he saw, he learned, he hated, he tensed ready to pounce.
Hell meets Heaven
The demon came at the dead of night and gave the city as breakfast to fire. Licking, biting, the flames devoured the city. The desperate men came clad bright as a phoenix in this deadly hour. Cowards, they became as their eyes met the fallen angel. No glossy bright hair, white wings. Oh no, but red ,only red death. Many fled in their but few left the bay. When the king knew chance there was non. He manned a ship with his most valuable sailors and left, with his children and new born grandaughter towards the endless plain of aqua.
Four grey towers, four grey walls.
They reached what was known as England. Left the ship and ran inland. They left all they had and became peasants. In the fields of bearded barley they worked.Then one day, before the rooster cry, they knew the demon coming. They slew a nobleman and with his money built a dull castle in the middle of a river, where they knew the demon would not have an easy crossing.
Then the demon came and they all stood up to defend except for the little grandaughter and her mother. The demon pulverized them and sent a killing curse straight towards the little girl. The curse bounced of a mirror changing its power and hit the mother killing her, the girl cursing her forever and the demon, sending him back to his native land. This lit the evil fires of understanding in the girl’s mind. So the girl, Miriam Shalott, grandaughter of Alberiong Shalott lived all her life weaving and weaving. The island was named Shalott and this is why Miriam was named the lady of Shalott.
By: Ausias Obradors