Scarlet Letter Dialectical Journal

With a twitch, I coughed, gasping for air. My whole body was wet, shivering, lying on the hard floor. To my right was the wooden trough resting on it’s side. It was empty now. All around me the cobblestone floor was wet. Undoubtedly I must have tripped, fallen in, and knocked over the tough, sending all the water to the ground--But where was Gemma? Where were the kids? The jester? And where the emerald? it was no longer in my hands.

“Looking for this?” The Jester snickered. Pinching two delicate fingers together, the Jester held the chain above his head. In the darkness the emerald highlighted the wicked smile on his face.

“Or perhaps you were in search of them,” he snarled and jerked his hand to his right. The green crystal luminesced Gemma

“But I mustn't...” he pointed his chin down, staring through his spidery lashes, “I need them.”

A surge of anger raced through me.

“If you do anything to them—”

Just then, the swaying emerald grazed Gemma’s cheek, and astoundingly, the light within the gem dimmed. It’s once brilliant green began to darken and dull and now looked nothing more than a burnished rock. The Jester’s eyes grew wide and horrified he tossed the necklace away from his hand.

“The queen,” he whispered. Urgently the Jester raced toward a wall and grabbed a cord hanging from the ceiling and yanked it down. With a muffled flapping sound, the red, velvet, curtain beside it tumbled to the ground and revealed a decorative bronze sculpture. The bronze sculpture gleamed in the dimness and looked to be a collage of a dozen of children with wings—cherubs. For a moment all was silent and I stared with awe. But as my eyes traveled it’s height, I noticed that all the cherubs were looking upwards. Up at the top, in two of the children’s hands, was a golden cup.

“Purity,” The Jester breathed. “All along I was’t wrong, it isn’t a child I should be seeking, nay, but a fair