Nine years old…

Mr. Midas slowly walked through his magnificent halls. The click of his heel clearly heard as an echo sounded against the high cave like ceilings. The hallway expanded with marble flooring and golden accents. Each window framed with rich wooden carvings leafed with gold. This was Midas’s palace. His treasure. At the end of the ornate hallway, Midas entered a small room. It was dark with velvet curtains covering each window pane. In the center of the room stood a statue, a figure frozen in time arms outstretched. Midas faced the figure directly. He looked into his daughter’s eyes fixed in a bright half smile. She was only nine years old and never had a chance. He recalled the fateful day when his blessing became his curse. He had reached for his daughter and turned her to solid gold. She had just learned how to say “Hello” in five different languages. Suddenly cemented in time, as a relic to her father’s greed. Midas reached out his hand to the statue. He caressed her cheek. If only he could turn back time, reconsider everything he cherished in his life. His daughter’s expression remained unchanged. He sighed. Midas turned away and walked out of the room slowly plodding down the hallway. The clicking of his heel echoed through the cavernous hall.


This piece is inspired by the Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge over at Go Dog Go Cafe. Photo by Will Svec on Unsplash

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