No romance,
She was just a dancer.
I was the High Court
Necromancer.
It brought her to her knees,
When I rose him to his feet,
One snap,
He’s back, in a hole so deep.
Her promise, made to me,
Blood Pact,
She’ll dance,
She’ll slave for me.
To save her lover,
Hear him speak,
But she couldn’t afford
Much more from me.
We took the dance floor
She took the lead
I said “Now, wait…”
She spoke, “Don’t speak.”
I was the High Court
Necromancer,
But she was the
Backroom Ballroom
Master.
She shoved me backward
Into my seat.
She ran
Cold hands
All over me.
She dropped, she popped
And stomped her feet.
She fought for her lover,
She got to me.
She lifted her arms
And her bangles fell
From her lazy limp wrists,
She licked her lips,
And I could already tell
She planned
To damn
Our souls to Hell.
She said,
“One second, I’ll return to you…”
I was getting suspicious,
I had to learn the truth.
So I waited for the dancer
To leave the room.
I leapt up, fast
To make my move.
No choice,
I approached the mindless corpse
Leaning up against the wall,
Eyes fixed to the floor.
“Listen now, I need some answers,
About the High Court
Backroom Ballroom
Dancer.”
He lifted
His rotting, bobbing head,
With breath like death
The poor soul gasped,
“You’ve led us both into a trap…”
Before he could finish,
The dancer was back.
She had come with the priests,
I was caught in the act.
Because only the King can give direction
To commit the act of resurrection.
Knowing this law, the dancer knew
She could make me into the
High Court Fool.
I was executed the very next day. She was given my title, my spellbook, my place.
Then she went to the King, a request was made…
She snatched my ass up out of the grave,
And bound me with curses, in ethereal chains…
A revenant slave, to the will of the Master.
So for all who may wonder, here is the answer
To how the Backroom Ballroom Dancer
Became the High Court
Necromancer.
