Day one of Inktober Inklings. Prompt: Gargoyle

The Gargoyle sits in the archway and glares, at the commoners passing over the stairs. His duty is to guard the fortress and keep. The castle may slumber but he never sleeps.

The Gargoyle sits in the archway and waits. For soldiers to hoist the portcullis and open the gates. The rabble, they babble with laughter and shouts. He fondly thinks they make a home out of this stone house.

The Gargoyle sits in the archway, untouched. The fire of arrows cannot hurt his tusks. Unbreakable, brave, he’ll stare these enemies down, they won’t touch his clan under his warning frown.

The Gargoyle sits in the archway alone, the crowds of life have found a new home. Battles have been won, but seasons move forward. The people have found new lands to move toward.

The Gargoyle sits in the archway for years, only birds and sheep to protect with his leers. Only the passing of time he fears, as rain wears the mighty stone walls to rubble. With nothing and no one to guard he is troubled.

The Gargoyle sits in the archway, forlorn. The ivy is his cloak for a life he now mourns. When new, young faces move over the hill, peeking around for secrets to spill.

The Gargoyle sits in the archway, now proud. Once again, he is attracting a crowd. They don’t stay for long, but they gaze up in awe, they wonder at all he saw in years ago and time long gone–adventures and victory, right and wrong. They’re all a bit strange, the Gargoyle thinks, but from protecting his own he will never shrink. He guards the visitor and they give him praise, as he teaches his new clan the history of past days.

docendo disco scribendo cogito

(I learn by teaching and think by writing.)

Millie Florence