The Scepter's Fall

I stood over the propped terracotta trap, savoring the silence of my captive marble. Did that pale wooden stick believe it could hold up my stone prison forever without facing judgment? I coiled back and drove the blunt heel of my red boot directly into the propped popsicle stick. With a sharp crack, the splinter snapped in two. The heavy clay saucer slammed down against the dark soil with a muffled, hollow thud, sealing the blue sphere into total darkness. Now my prison has no door, and nothing will ever escape.