Writing Challenge - Day 1
To all who are reading this,
Welcome to June! My attention has been brought to a writing challenge, guaranteed to get your imagination flowing, and the writing too. Not that my brain needs anymore writing projects at the minute...
I have two novels to write, and then I need to start a whole new series that keeps talking to me! Oh yes, big things are coming from little ol' me!
This challenge is to write flash fiction from a one word prompt, with a minimum of 750 words. There will be different prompts for each day and I will be taking part! Whilst this challenge has no official title, I am calling it JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... There will be thirty prompts in this challenge - so just imagine the final word count!
I hope you enjoy these short works of fiction! Maybe you will be encouraged to try your hand at this challenge with me. If you have any questions about my works, or anything of the sort, please don't hesitate to get in touch! You can always post a comment below!
So... Here's the first prompt.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 1. - HERO
I stand to the side of the dais, head bowed low. Around me, the party is in full swing. Candles illuminate the room, but still managing to hide its many secrets. The largest candelabra is suspended from the center of the ceiling, and occasionally, the light flickers. It always settles down, but I have seen people moving aside, almost scared that sparks will fly out and set their high priced clothing on fire.
The King is drinking joyfully on his throne. The knights are topping up his tankard, eager to hear more of his battle tales and dalliances with women up and down the country. Before he was married, of course. The Queen sits to his side, and is entertaining the women of the court. They surround her, and sit by her feet like loyal hounds. She sits primly, her hand on the left hand side of her ribs, and I am sure that the corset she wears to pull back her shapely figure must be paining her. The young Princess is fending off well meaning suitors on the dance floor, whilst her gaggle of royal friends beg her to tell the tale of her daring rescue again and again. And to not leave out any important details.
I sigh and slip away. I follow the wall, into the shadows, edging around the revelers. The finery I wear makes my skin itch, and the sword hanging from my leather belt is too heavy. The boots are at least a size too big and slop around my feet. I have been shaved to within an inch of my life, and my unruly hair, that usually hangs in my face, has been tied back with a plain black velvet ribbon.
On the veranda, gentlemen and ladies of the courts talk amongst themselves. They do not pay me any attention to me, nor I them. They are too interested in swapping favours, stealing kisses and flirting their ways into new bedrooms. I, however, have done none of these things. I lean against a marble balustrade, watching the moon hover in the night sky above me, and wonder.
Is she staring at the same moon too?
I cast my mind back to before the... The act. I remember counting the stars at night, my hand in hers. I remember shepherding animals into the next fields, the apple she would always toss me in the woven bag at my side. I remember visiting her in the village tavern, watching her face light up each time she saw me...
"Excuse me?"
I jerk out of my reverie and stare into the eyes of a brunette. Curls frame a pointed face, and her eyes are a river blue. She is bedecked in jewels, from her ears, to neck, and fingers. She wears a light pink dress, with frilly sleeves, and the way her skirt falls makes it clear that she is wearing a corset, and a hoop. A voice whispers, "Impractical tart", in my ear and I almost smile.
"Yes?" I ask, then add, "Milady."
"Are you the brave young man that saved Princess Yolande?" She wafts the air around her with an elegantly embroidered fan that matches her dress.
"I-"
"It was very heroic of you, sir. I have heard all about it from the princess herself!"
"It was nothing." I try to brush it off, but she continues, regardless.
"The way you brought down that hideous boar!" She shivers, a cat like smile on her face. A cat that has caught a mouse in a cellar, at any rate. "She could have been gored to death, but you stepped in! A mere farm boy turned hero with a few practised moves with a shepherd's crook!" She bats her lashes, and I resist the urge to ask her if she has something stuck.
"I-"
"May I have your name, sir?"
At last. A question I feel secure in answering.
"Killick, Milady."
She gives me a puzzled expression, then arranges her face artfully. "I am the Lady Cleo. It is an honour to make your acquaintance!" She pushes a white handkerchief into my shaking hands. It is edged with lace, and an elegant 'C G' have been stitched into a corner in - surprise, surprise - pink thread. She gives my a curtsy, and rushes off to join a gaggle of exited looking girls in the doorway to the main hall.
I let the handkerchief fall to the floor. It was not heroics. It was instinct. I am not a hero. I never will be. I wish I could go back in time, and change things. Let the simpering girl child fall from her mare, and into the path of a startled boar. She shouldn't have raced away from her guides in the first place! If I had not had been there...
Hero Killick. A name the King has bestowed upon me. As nice a name as it sounds, I prefer Killick, the farmhand. Son to Marshall and Rowena. Friend to all. Betrothed to the maiden Marianne, the tavern girl.
THE END© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
Currently reading: Rebel Spring by Morgan Rhodes
Welcome to June! My attention has been brought to a writing challenge, guaranteed to get your imagination flowing, and the writing too. Not that my brain needs anymore writing projects at the minute...
I have two novels to write, and then I need to start a whole new series that keeps talking to me! Oh yes, big things are coming from little ol' me!
This challenge is to write flash fiction from a one word prompt, with a minimum of 750 words. There will be different prompts for each day and I will be taking part! Whilst this challenge has no official title, I am calling it JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... There will be thirty prompts in this challenge - so just imagine the final word count!
I hope you enjoy these short works of fiction! Maybe you will be encouraged to try your hand at this challenge with me. If you have any questions about my works, or anything of the sort, please don't hesitate to get in touch! You can always post a comment below!
So... Here's the first prompt.
Yours, with eternal ink,
Zoe
---
JUNE PROMPTS YOU TO... WRITING CHALLENGEDAY 1. - HERO
I stand to the side of the dais, head bowed low. Around me, the party is in full swing. Candles illuminate the room, but still managing to hide its many secrets. The largest candelabra is suspended from the center of the ceiling, and occasionally, the light flickers. It always settles down, but I have seen people moving aside, almost scared that sparks will fly out and set their high priced clothing on fire.
The King is drinking joyfully on his throne. The knights are topping up his tankard, eager to hear more of his battle tales and dalliances with women up and down the country. Before he was married, of course. The Queen sits to his side, and is entertaining the women of the court. They surround her, and sit by her feet like loyal hounds. She sits primly, her hand on the left hand side of her ribs, and I am sure that the corset she wears to pull back her shapely figure must be paining her. The young Princess is fending off well meaning suitors on the dance floor, whilst her gaggle of royal friends beg her to tell the tale of her daring rescue again and again. And to not leave out any important details.
I sigh and slip away. I follow the wall, into the shadows, edging around the revelers. The finery I wear makes my skin itch, and the sword hanging from my leather belt is too heavy. The boots are at least a size too big and slop around my feet. I have been shaved to within an inch of my life, and my unruly hair, that usually hangs in my face, has been tied back with a plain black velvet ribbon.
On the veranda, gentlemen and ladies of the courts talk amongst themselves. They do not pay me any attention to me, nor I them. They are too interested in swapping favours, stealing kisses and flirting their ways into new bedrooms. I, however, have done none of these things. I lean against a marble balustrade, watching the moon hover in the night sky above me, and wonder.
Is she staring at the same moon too?
I cast my mind back to before the... The act. I remember counting the stars at night, my hand in hers. I remember shepherding animals into the next fields, the apple she would always toss me in the woven bag at my side. I remember visiting her in the village tavern, watching her face light up each time she saw me...
"Excuse me?"
I jerk out of my reverie and stare into the eyes of a brunette. Curls frame a pointed face, and her eyes are a river blue. She is bedecked in jewels, from her ears, to neck, and fingers. She wears a light pink dress, with frilly sleeves, and the way her skirt falls makes it clear that she is wearing a corset, and a hoop. A voice whispers, "Impractical tart", in my ear and I almost smile.
"Yes?" I ask, then add, "Milady."
"Are you the brave young man that saved Princess Yolande?" She wafts the air around her with an elegantly embroidered fan that matches her dress.
"I-"
"It was very heroic of you, sir. I have heard all about it from the princess herself!"
"It was nothing." I try to brush it off, but she continues, regardless.
"The way you brought down that hideous boar!" She shivers, a cat like smile on her face. A cat that has caught a mouse in a cellar, at any rate. "She could have been gored to death, but you stepped in! A mere farm boy turned hero with a few practised moves with a shepherd's crook!" She bats her lashes, and I resist the urge to ask her if she has something stuck.
"I-"
"May I have your name, sir?"
At last. A question I feel secure in answering.
"Killick, Milady."
She gives me a puzzled expression, then arranges her face artfully. "I am the Lady Cleo. It is an honour to make your acquaintance!" She pushes a white handkerchief into my shaking hands. It is edged with lace, and an elegant 'C G' have been stitched into a corner in - surprise, surprise - pink thread. She gives my a curtsy, and rushes off to join a gaggle of exited looking girls in the doorway to the main hall.
I let the handkerchief fall to the floor. It was not heroics. It was instinct. I am not a hero. I never will be. I wish I could go back in time, and change things. Let the simpering girl child fall from her mare, and into the path of a startled boar. She shouldn't have raced away from her guides in the first place! If I had not had been there...
Hero Killick. A name the King has bestowed upon me. As nice a name as it sounds, I prefer Killick, the farmhand. Son to Marshall and Rowena. Friend to all. Betrothed to the maiden Marianne, the tavern girl.
THE END© Copyright - Zoe Adams (2014)
Currently reading: Rebel Spring by Morgan Rhodes
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