| General Fiction posted April 13, 2024 |
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A tale from old to young
Sheila
by Bryce 1
The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. I tried to get to her in time but alas, I could not. As the sound of the slam died away I stood thinking. I wondered so deeply if I had made every move I could have possibly made. If I had done all in my power to stop that door from making such a fateful and gutting slam, had I? Was I enough to save a life? Am I enough to save my own even? Some questions are never truly answered, but the way life plays out can heavily suggest one. I was at a loss. A big loss. How gut wrenching it is to lose your oldest and most trusted friend. She's gone and I can't go back either. All I can do is warn you with my story, and tell you about her. My lined in gold, forged in fire, beautiful, perfect sword. My Sheila.
I lived in a village of about twelve thousand people. It was a small area and we did the best with what we had, in earnest we had abundance. But of course back then we had to protect ourselves a little more, we had our guards up a lot. Living on the shore, we often had visitors pass through and you never knew when one would have ill will to carry out. I worried but on the sly, for I had my sword. I had Sheila to protect me. Although, ironically, it had crossed my mind before that anyone who wants anything would have to desire Sheila. She would fetch a high price.
You see, I had acquired this sword back when I was a vey young boy. I was walking in the woods one summer day, as I remember, and I spotted a rock. Not just a rock, but a boulder. It was huge and if I had to identify it now a days, I would say that it was mostly if not all volcanic rock. It was so shiny! It downright gleamed. I was taken as you could expect from a young lad of about 8. And what stuck out from that mass but the handle of a sword. It was a big sword, too big for me I knew right away. I looked around and found only the green damp nature that surrounded me. No other souls but mine and this strange sword.
I walked up to it. It jutted out right at my head. I felt like I could hear it, just sitting there. Like it made some mystical noise, an echo from somewhere so far away but close enough to remember. Someplace like home, I think. Well, that's what I think now, back then I was just amazed by the cool new thing I had discovered. How shiny too! Looked like a brand new sword to me. Anyway, I put my hands around the handle and pulled. Not a thing, it wouldn't budge. I pulled as hard as I could. Nothing. I put my two feet onto the rock for leverage and pulled from my legs, nothing. I was perplexed and disappointed as well. I needed that sword. It will be mine, too. I gathered shrubbery and sticks and placed a cover over it. I'd be back the following day.
After a night of determining how to go about retriving my sword, I felt confident enough to try some new things. I brought with me, a rock. I figured I'd chip away at the surrounding rock until the sword would be loose enough to at least budge. Hours went by and either I was too weak to chip the rock or the rock was too strong to give. I was stumped. I gave in and tried every possible thing I could. I kicked the sword, I tried using water, I jumped from the top of the rock to the handle, nothing. Nothing but a couple bruises and a sense of worry that someone stronger would find and retrieve my sword. I even caught myself daydreaming, wasting valuable time!
The sun had begun its decent for the day. I was tired. I had all but given up. When out of no where, I heard a noise. Something popped out of the woods and into view. A man. He was old, had a beard. He walked up to me smiling. I was terrified. Absolutley shook. He talked to me though. He remarked how amazing it was to have the chance to talk to me and how he knows the way to retrive my sword. I asked him how. He told me, in a whisper, that I have to believe it is mine. I have to genly grasp the sword and slide it out. Without fear. Without worry, Without doubt. Without trying. Take it as if you're dreaming. So I did. And out it came. She was mine.
He had one more thing to say, he said. He told me that one day, when I am old and grey like him, some people will come to take the sword away. They will have heard of this sword and try to take it and they will. You have to stop them before they slam the door. "You have to, please". I told him I would. The day has finally come and I admit, I did not fulfill my promsie. Tears ran down my face and I looked to the mirror and I saw the man. I asked his forgiveness. I pleaded with my tears.
Just then there was the sound of nature. Birds. The wind. Through my tears I saw a boy. He sat next to the rock and my sword. I stepped forward. And then another step. A few more and then, he looked up. I smiled.
The Door Slammed writing prompt entry
The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. I tried to get to her in time but alas, I could not. As the sound of the slam died away I stood thinking. I wondered so deeply if I had made every move I could have possibly made. If I had done all in my power to stop that door from making such a fateful and gutting slam, had I? Was I enough to save a life? Am I enough to save my own even? Some questions are never truly answered, but the way life plays out can heavily suggest one. I was at a loss. A big loss. How gut wrenching it is to lose your oldest and most trusted friend. She's gone and I can't go back either. All I can do is warn you with my story, and tell you about her. My lined in gold, forged in fire, beautiful, perfect sword. My Sheila.
I lived in a village of about twelve thousand people. It was a small area and we did the best with what we had, in earnest we had abundance. But of course back then we had to protect ourselves a little more, we had our guards up a lot. Living on the shore, we often had visitors pass through and you never knew when one would have ill will to carry out. I worried but on the sly, for I had my sword. I had Sheila to protect me. Although, ironically, it had crossed my mind before that anyone who wants anything would have to desire Sheila. She would fetch a high price.
You see, I had acquired this sword back when I was a vey young boy. I was walking in the woods one summer day, as I remember, and I spotted a rock. Not just a rock, but a boulder. It was huge and if I had to identify it now a days, I would say that it was mostly if not all volcanic rock. It was so shiny! It downright gleamed. I was taken as you could expect from a young lad of about 8. And what stuck out from that mass but the handle of a sword. It was a big sword, too big for me I knew right away. I looked around and found only the green damp nature that surrounded me. No other souls but mine and this strange sword.
I walked up to it. It jutted out right at my head. I felt like I could hear it, just sitting there. Like it made some mystical noise, an echo from somewhere so far away but close enough to remember. Someplace like home, I think. Well, that's what I think now, back then I was just amazed by the cool new thing I had discovered. How shiny too! Looked like a brand new sword to me. Anyway, I put my hands around the handle and pulled. Not a thing, it wouldn't budge. I pulled as hard as I could. Nothing. I put my two feet onto the rock for leverage and pulled from my legs, nothing. I was perplexed and disappointed as well. I needed that sword. It will be mine, too. I gathered shrubbery and sticks and placed a cover over it. I'd be back the following day.
After a night of determining how to go about retriving my sword, I felt confident enough to try some new things. I brought with me, a rock. I figured I'd chip away at the surrounding rock until the sword would be loose enough to at least budge. Hours went by and either I was too weak to chip the rock or the rock was too strong to give. I was stumped. I gave in and tried every possible thing I could. I kicked the sword, I tried using water, I jumped from the top of the rock to the handle, nothing. Nothing but a couple bruises and a sense of worry that someone stronger would find and retrieve my sword. I even caught myself daydreaming, wasting valuable time!
The sun had begun its decent for the day. I was tired. I had all but given up. When out of no where, I heard a noise. Something popped out of the woods and into view. A man. He was old, had a beard. He walked up to me smiling. I was terrified. Absolutley shook. He talked to me though. He remarked how amazing it was to have the chance to talk to me and how he knows the way to retrive my sword. I asked him how. He told me, in a whisper, that I have to believe it is mine. I have to genly grasp the sword and slide it out. Without fear. Without worry, Without doubt. Without trying. Take it as if you're dreaming. So I did. And out it came. She was mine.
He had one more thing to say, he said. He told me that one day, when I am old and grey like him, some people will come to take the sword away. They will have heard of this sword and try to take it and they will. You have to stop them before they slam the door. "You have to, please". I told him I would. The day has finally come and I admit, I did not fulfill my promsie. Tears ran down my face and I looked to the mirror and I saw the man. I asked his forgiveness. I pleaded with my tears.
Just then there was the sound of nature. Birds. The wind. Through my tears I saw a boy. He sat next to the rock and my sword. I stepped forward. And then another step. A few more and then, he looked up. I smiled.
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Writing Prompt Write a story that starts with this sentence: The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. Don't add to the sentence. The catch is this must be flash fiction. So the story should be between 100 and 1,000 words. |
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