Pence Page 6
by Mark Jacobs
*****
He watched from a clove of trees and underbrush at hailing distance, his eyes fastened on the outline of the immaculate white gate.
He had no particular interest in the gardener’s jewels or his gemstones. He had no more a need of fruit blossoms or flowers. One thing only commanded his attention.
He had found it at last, one hundred years’ searching one hundred kingdoms. He would sooner turn to dust than turn his eyes from the garden and what awaited him within.