The king, his face, one moment red with passion and wine, drained into the horrible colorlessness of a corpse.
“I’ve…” he stammered.
“Look to your love,” said the prophet, pointing a boney finger. “See what you have slept with,” said the blind man.
The king did look, and his eyes fell upon the grinning corpse nestled in his pillows, its dried flesh falling from it in flakes.
“Gawd!” cried the king, falling to his knees.
The blind prophet turned his head to heaven, and what he saw, no man can know.
“Your crimes and sins,” he began, “will bear fruit…”
Tale Told 