Why would I waste my Wednesday night, waltzing with warlords, dukes and whatever whatnots when I won, without doubt, our witty bet? Don’t warp my words, shrewd steward! I’m awfully appalled by your swindling show! I want to wiggle away, swerve astray, to wander on the whole width of bewitching West Coast. There, the sea, that wonderland, awaits me. And whilst the waves wrap my feet, whispering me wafts of warmth, here the nobles so willingly twist me into a wretched wisp. Please, steward, I’m growing weaker and weaker, and someday I will eventually wilt, like flowers wither at winter’s breath.
Originally Published in Vol. 47 Issue 4 on October 25th, 2017