Crowning moment
Now, that's what I call a coronation
Craighaath stood by the Beck river, arms folded, countenance stern, for the climax of the three-day ceremonial. The king stood before him, dressed in plain hessian, blood and ashes daubed across his face. Craighaarth stared at him with contempt.
“Bow your head,” he commanded, spitting in the dust. The King obeyed, casting his eyes down upon the priest’s putrid feet.
Two acolytes clutching stout boughs lifted the cauldron and poured.
As the smoke cleared Craighaarth, plunging his calloused fist into the sand, pulled out the bronze image, casting it before the King.
“Behold your God, come down to Earth.”
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About the Creator
Raymond G. Taylor
Author based in Kent, England. A writer of fictional short stories in a wide range of genres, he has been a non-fiction writer since the 1980s. Non-fiction subjects include art, history, technology, business, law, and the human condition.
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