Story Write Compilations Volume I Stories 35

 

The Day I met Rose Winters

 

Author's Note:

A rose, a cat, and snow. That was the ingredient to write this tale. And that's when I met Rose Winter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

It was an early morning in 1974 when the young boy stood in the street carrying his stalk of roses. It's a Saturday morning and there should be fewer cars on the road, but he was very careful when he stepped onto the pavement. He looked right and left and back to his right before he took his first step onto the road. But he paused when he saw the cat walking across without a care in the world. It's a silky black cat with a spot of white under its chin, and it's taking its time despite the cold weather we are having now. It was snowing last night but they plow the road this morning. But here the cat is moving at its speed without a care for the snow or the cars.

 

Wait, are there no cars on the road? Yes, none are moving as far as he can see. The cat has reached his side of the road and it came up to him. The cat moved up to the young boy's boots and rubbed its body against the leather. Maybe it's doing that to rub off the cold snow on its body or it knows the boy. The boy stooped down to pick up the cat behind its front paws and said something to it. Then he put the cat down on the pavement and the cat slowly made its way down the road. The cat stopped at five paces away and then turned its head to look at the boy. Then it went back on its journey with its tail upright in the rear.

 

Now the little boy picked up the stalk of roses he dropped on the pavement when he picked up the cat. He shook off the snow that got picked up in the rose petals and held it in his hand again. He stood there again and looked at both ends of the road for any cars. There is none so he slowly made his way across on the road; ever slowly with his right leg in the cast. He broke it last week when he went snowboarding down this very same pavement here and crashed into my house fences.

 

I was about to leave my house that morning when I heard the crash. I ran to the fence and saw him in a very bad pose against the fence. I helped him up and called the rescue team to assist with the boy. The last I saw of him was when they closed the door on the ambulance and not till now as he is hopping across the road. He hopped up to my repaired fence and looked at it. I think he must be trying to remember how he crashed into it and ended up in the hospital. He opened the low gate and hopped into the door.

 

"Hello there. You must be the boy I rescued last week. You did not tell me your name properly as you were in tears then. My name is Rose, and I lived here." I held out my hand to assist the young boy into my warm living hall where the fireplace is available. As I was to close the door, the cat came running and took its place on the rug at the fireplace.

 

"Hello, Mrs.Rose. My name is Danny and I am here to thank you. Here are some roses for you but they are not real. I cannot afford any real ones, so I took these plastic ones. I hope you like them."

 

"Why, thank you. Would you like to have a cup of hot cocoa and you can tell me how to snowboard as I never did get to that when I was young like you."

 

So starts a beautiful companionship between one lady named Rose with a cat when it was snowing that year in 1974.

 

Today is the 30th anniversary of our companionship as I laid the bouquet of roses at the resting place of Rose Winters 1910-1980. She never did do the snowboarding but she shared my stories on it for some years. As for the cat, he is resting under a bed of roses in her garden during the summer/spring season.

 

 

Story Write Compilations Volume I Stories 34

 Yellow Heat

 

Author's Note:

The contest calls for a tale on fire. And I gave them the blazing version set in the stone age period.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

The climb on the slope is bad, with our feet blistering from the hot surface but we had them wrapped with the skin of the animals. But we can still feel the heat as we move closer to the yellow movement coming from the hole in the ground. We near it and we can feel the burn on our skin now. I held out my hand to hold the men as the ritual calls for us to perform before we can approach the hole. I raised my hands upwards and called out for the safety of my people and myself. We hunt at the flat land but our yellow heat runs out due to the careless action of the young one. We beg for the new yellow heat which we will carry back to the cave. We take it as it protects us and yet it gives the meat a better taste. It helps us in the cold nights and the children lived longer with the yellow heat.

 

Just as I am here now to lead these hunters to get the new yellow heat. Jakin came forth with the thick branch and he hands it to me. I checked it for any moisture as the wet surface makes it difficult to take the yellow heat. I moved on alone and holding the long branch to the hole. I leave it there to embrace the yellow heat. I can see it fighting on the relationship like when I first asked Mani to be my mate. We fight like the yellow heat now; from yellow to red and then back, but we will be one. The embrace is complete and now come the hard part. We need to remove the branch and I am the only one to do it? I touched the branch and it's not heated up. I pulled at it and it separated from the main yellow heat but the branch has its yellow heat on it. I pulled it every slowly towards us and soon it was ready for the next embrace. The designated hunters moved forth and placed their branch on the one I drawback. Soon their branches are with the yellow heat and we marched back down the slope.

 

But the real danger is not here but on the way back. It's a two days one night walk and there will be others who will steal our yellow heat. They are the ones who know not the ritual and yet they want the yellow heat too. In my group, there are hunters to deal with them but this time we are less in numbers. We lost two good hunters to the great one with the front long teeth, but the yellow heat is our symbol of life. It does not take long for the others to come, and they come in big numbers. We are less by half but we hold the yellow heat. They are like the animals; they also fear the yellow heat, so we hold together with the hunters bearing the yellow heat inside while the ones with the handles of bone keep the others at bay.

 

One came charging like the wild small animal, but the hunter clubbed him down. Another tried but he stopped before he could reach the yellow heat. I thought of an idea that I grabbed the small branch with the yellow heat and threw it at the others. It lands at the feet of one of the others and they all ran for it. I shouted to my group to run and ignore the fallen yellow heat. We have others to hold on to. Soon we were cleared for the others and we rest our bodies. The branches with the yellow heat are kept together and more branches are sought for the next part of the journey. It was then Gant confront me on giving away the yellow heat to the others.

 

"They are many and we are few. If I do not do it, we may lose more than we are now. It's a small yellow heat, but they are not chasing us now" I had to explain to Gant as he has now a few of us with him, and they questioned my move.

 

"Auric, you scared of them. The yellow heat scares them and we have it. We risked our lives for it and you give it so freely. I asked are you with them or with us."

 

I looked at him; big like me with the club he holds well in his hand. But a fight I would not like as these are my tribe. But I will have to handle Gant.

 

"We fight the yellow way." It's the ritual of where the challenge to be the leader is called now. Whoever wins holds the leader position. Not many dare to take on the challenge as some have lost their hands in it.

 

"So be it. I take your challenge." I know Gant has eyed the position for long and he now challenges me when my men are few. We moved to the yellow heat and I told him to take the branch he wants. He selected a small branch and showed it to his men. I knew he would do that as I took a bigger one. There was a hush among the men as we faced each other. The challenge calls for us to hold the yellow heat over our hands. It will be painful but it will prove the one who will be the leader. Gant was reluctant as he did not expect us to go this length in the challenge. I know him well to shout and then challenge but he has shrunk from many when it comes to the test.

 

"Aargh! I will do it today as our tribe needs us." Gant walks away as he does most times. But I picked up his thrown branch and placed it in on my palm. I can feel the pain in the flesh but I had to endure as many will see this and none may challenge me again. Then I threw the branch to the rest of the yellow heat branches. The men around me cheered me as their leader as Gant walks away in shame.

 

We did reach back the cave in time to see the rest of the tribe. They rejoiced in our return and embraced the return of the new yellow heat. It was added to the old one and a new yellow heat soon shone in the cave. I went to my shelter and sat there while my mate, Mina attend to my needs. She looked at my blistered palm and she shed her tears on it.

 

"Auric, you cannot be doing this for long. Your hand is too bad to be good." Mina is a good mate and bore me some young ones.

 

"I hoped one day our young ones will be able to make these yellow heat than for them to risk hunting it. But till then it's my responsibility to continue for we need the yellow heat to survive and to keep our body warm. I am their leader and no sacrifice is too great." I sat there to see my youngest rubbing two stones together and there is some yellow heat to be seen, but not as big as the one I brought back. Maybe one day, he will do it right and make it as big as mine. But till then, the way to get the yellow heat is by the challenge to its well and to come back with it.

 

 

 

 

Trojan War Chapter 41

 

The saga with Troy

 

41.

King Menelaus was upset with the battle with Paris and then of the malicious programs that stifled his attack on Troy. Nearly all that was in the fleet was hampered by it but the recovery was done. It took them a long time; the system had to be restored with new programs and the installation took time. He had only restored a part of the combined fleet and it was taking its toll on the alliance. He was thankful that Troy did not retaliate then.

“What of Achilles?” Menelaus asked the gathered leaders there and saw two of his own was missing.

“He had left us.” Odysseus had turned up behind the King. “I am sorry, my King. I was delayed. He was …”

Odysseus was to speak the truth but Agamemnon had taken the turn to speak. He had arrived after Odysseus.

“Achilles had withdrawn after we disagreed on Troy Five. He had grown soft with his stay at Lycomedes. I have to let him go.” Agamemnon told his brother. “I have to make my decision as to the leader of the fleet.”

“Good. Then let us work on a new strategy. It seems that the Trojan influence is disabled but they are still strong. Troy One to Three are still formidable and their fleet intact.” Odysseus advised the King.

“We can….” Odysseus was cut off by Agamemnon.

“As a leader of the fleet, I am proposing a siege on the Trojan planets.” Agamemnon looked at Odysseus who did not stop the other. He knew his position was to listen to the main leader.  

“A siege? That will lengthen the war but …” King Menelaus had given his thought on it.

“One that is needed to avoid unnecessary bloodshed but during the siege, we will sneak in past their shields and hit them where it may hurt. We fight them the ancient way.”

The murmurs of disbelief resonated among the leader. The ancient way was to mount the war on foot with armored suits and weapons. The new way was to engage with stealth fighters and ships from space and the orbit level bombardment. It was more effective than sending the warriors to close contact war.

“My King,” King Haliz called out. “I am not in favor of the siege. Let us finish them off.”

“King Haliz, I would have done it but the Trojan held some shields which we are unable to penetrate. I am not in favor of the siege but we have not many choices.” Agamemnon replied. “However, we have studied the defenses, and we may have a breakthrough.”

“Troy Three registered some hits from the unusual bombardment. I had the data analyzed and it displayed some interesting results.” Agamemnon looked at the others. “Our first break but we need time to work out the results.”

“We have the best among our side.” A Hellas leader cut in. “We can assist…”

“And we declined. The data will be analyzed by us. And only …” Agamemnon reply was interrupted.

“I thought we are an alliance and why can’t we share the data?” King Haliz cut in. “This is insufferable. If we are not to be treated as equals, then we will call off the alliance.”

“The Halizones is not much of an equal.” A Hellas leader sniggered. “Your feats are not memorable to any of us.”

“Hellas, I hoped that you are not mentioning the defeat at Loni One.” The Hellas leader mocked the other. It annoyed the Hellas to be reminded of that. The Hellas reacted with a rush towards King Haliz but the guards there prevented a fight.

“Leaders of the alliance, please restrain from creating a new war. We need to work together.” King Menelaus addressed the leader. “The Archaeon will study the data and then shared it out with all. And then we can end the war.”

 “The Task forces will remain as before with First Task to cover Troy One and Second Task to cover Troy Two. The third Task is to be on reserve just outside the boundary in case we are hit from the rear.” Agamemnon gave the assignment.

“Agamemnon, Second Task Force is without the assigned leader. Achilles had left the position vacant.” The Argos commander had reported in.

“I am aware and have another to be assigned.” King Menelaus did the announcement. “I am assigning Palamedes to replace Achilles. He will…”

“I protest, my King.” It was Odysseus who snapped at the appointment. “He is not experienced to take it on.”

“And it will be noted for your protest. I did not complete my statement. Ajax brothers will be with Palamedes as co-commander. They will share command and only myself will override any disputes.” King Menelaus looked at Odysseus. “Will that be acceptable?”

At Troy, King Priam was looking at the data compiled from the last battles. He was with Hector and the other leaders of Troy.

“Troy Three, Four, and Five were regretfully lost. We had to abandon Troy Three even though it was not overrun. It had to be abandoned, however. We could not protect it as a whole. The shields were at most forty-five percent coverage but we made up with the fleet to deter the attack.” King Priam sighed. “And Paris is missing too. He had about with King Menelaus and then unexpectedly, there were some explosions, and Paris went missing.”

“Maybe he was taken off by Helen.” A jest from one of the gathered and then the heckling began.

“Release the woman and end the war.” A leader of the Trojan descent called out. “Helen is the cause of our misery.”

Others joined in to call for the return of Helen.

“Leaders,” King Priam held out his arms. “If we cannot protect our own, then we are a letdown as a nation.”

Those words dug deep into the Trojan heart and the murmuring stopped.

“We will find Paris and also protect Troy.” King Priam shared his view. Now, prepare for the enemy to lay a siege on Troy One and Two.”

“I will share the fleet between Troy One and Two.” Hector cut in. “Two Mothership, five destroyers and ten frigates to cover those two worlds, and a thousand stealth fighters will remain at Troy Two. The others of two Mothership, and four frigates here without the Chariots again.”

“You will have three thousand stealth fighters here at Troy One. With the ten cannons with the new projectiles, you will be protected.” Hector reminded the King.

“And you hold the similar cannons there at Troy Two.” King Priam reminded the other. “How much did we salvage from Troy Three?”

It was the long-awaited question.

“We did what we could; the cores but some were unstable to move, and we rigged it to explode. I think all of it exploded.” Hector reported to the King.

“You think…” King Priam glared at the other.

“I had sent in a new task force to double confirm,” Hector replied.

“They ought to find nothing or we will be in trouble soon.” King Priam sighed.

 

Arthur II Book III Chapter 5

 5.

 

Gawain woke to find himself immersed in the huge bath, and the first thing he sought was his manhood. It was still there and the water there was scented. He looked around and noticed that he was in a warm bedroom of a very familiar place.

“Molly!” Gawain called out.

“You won’t have to shout. I am here.” Molly appeared with a hot soup in a pot which she carried in with a tray. “I do have available rooms; to be exact two rooms of which you are occupying.”

Molly dressed in her work tunic and apron placed the tray on the table near the bath. Gawain sank himself into the water and Molly smiled.

“I have seen enough of you that I have probably seen in my sons.” Molly was married at an earlier age and has two sons. They died at an early age with the father in a raid, and since then Molly had accumulated coins to build the tavern.

“Did you …” Gawain was conscious of his modesty.

“And hello there. I did have the bath prepared for you but the immersion was done by two of my servants.” Molly explained.

“Was it Stella and Mary? Oh, my goodness. They would have….”

“Spare that thought. If it was them, you won’t be alone there.” Molly laughed. “I have the stable boys to help. They took your clothes but I held onto the sword and the empty coin bag.”

“Thank you for that. My coin bag was empty anyway.” Gawain replied. “Molly, what about…”

“I got you some clothes from an errant boarder. It should fit you.” Molly smiled. “He was about your ….. shape.”

It belonged to Galahad but that man was not returning for it.  

“Molly, you did see…” Gawain displayed his annoyance.

“Well. For one, you were drunk and no, I did not see. I merely indicated the shape of your frame. I am not any wench who is keen to get in bedding with anyone let alone you. Or …”

“How is my brother?” Gawain asked.

“I know not nor do I care now,” Molly replied. “Galahad had drifted away from me. As some others had before him.”

“I doubt he has. He likes you. He may have a lot on his mind.” Gawain defended the brother. “He is a …”

“A good man without a doubt but of late, you have been a pain to his side. You get yourself drunk or worse in a brawl, and he had to pull you out. He was tormented by your action.”

“I have my issues. I will sort it out soon.” Gawain submerged his face into the water.

“Well, drowning won’t help you,” Molly told him off. Gawain decided to move the subject.

“I can hear that you and Galahad had …. drifted.” Molly heard the younger man and moved the subject back to him.

“Gawain, I need yourself saved from the misery of love. Whoever she was, she was not worth the tears and meads. Just move on... You cannot be always drunk most times.”

“I do love her.” Gawain cut in.

“And was she worth it?” Molly looked at him. “Who is she?”

“Elaine of Augustus,” Gawain uttered out. “I …”

“She is not worth your sorry arse. What I hear of her, she is a slut. She has been seen with a few men all notable leaders, but she had not remained faithful.”

“Please do decry my love. She may be confused like me. Like Galahad.” Gawain took defense.

“Whatever it’s. Get out and dressed up. There is the hot soup for you and then you can bloody leave here. Your stay has ended.” Molly stepped out and unseen by the young knight, she was heartbroken.

So was one other that was in Camelot.

At that moment, Elaine had stepped away from the bedding. She adjusted her gown and stepped to the wash basin.

“Is that it?” The voice was the Chief on the bedding. He was nude and had his satisfaction which was why Elaine had to wash her hands.

“You are not the one I need.” Elaine had spent the year looking for the champion for her father. She had not succeeded at it. She walked to the doorway and then stopped.

“This is my chamber. You will leave.” Elaine turned to the Chief. “Leave before I called the guards.”

It was then Guinevere stepped in. She saw the nude Chief tossing on the tunic. He did not look pleased.

“Am I interrupting?” Guinevere has bonded with Elaine in the last months.  Since her wedding to Arthur, Guinevere had found a friend with Elaine. They have learned to share their woes, but Guinevere had hidden her most intimate secret; her love for Lancelot.

“Oh, you are not,” Elaine replied. She then turned to look at the silly Chief standing there.

“Move it, miscreant,” Guinevere called out. “I am your Queen.”

The Chief rushed out for he was not to antagonize the King.

“We are alone now. I need to talk to you.” Guinevere looked at Elaine. “I am in need to find Lancelot.”

“Lancelot? He has not been seen for some time.” Elaine replied. “I have not seen him as yet. His reputation preludes him. But why asked of him?”

“I will explain but not now. He will eventually return to Joyous. Find him there.”

“Lancelot has not been seen for some months. What makes you think he will return? Maybe he has died?” Elaine said.

“If Lancelot was killed, his killer will announce it to the land and which he has not died, and then there is no such news. He is probably wandering like when he was the Ghost.”

“Lancelot the Ghost? I heard of the Ghost but I never knew…” Elaine gasped in her words.

“Next to Arthur, Lancelot is the one that could help your father. He is the …. Not the better one but he can be. Find him, Elaine. He may be your last hope.” Guinevere then excused herself to return to her chamber. She was unsure why she asked Elaine to look for Lancelot. Well, she can’t go herself without the permission of Arthur and yet she was concerned about Lancelot. It was true that he had not been seen but words of his exploits were heard from afar.

“When will you return, Lancelot? I missed you.”

At that moment, Lancelot was at the stream to wash himself of the traveling dust and also of his tunic. He stood there in the nude basking in the morning light. The friar had taken to wash upstream and having completed his ritual, he was in prayer.

Lancelot had learned some new things from the friar. He did admit that his upbringing was not normal and the Friar took it upon himself to teach him on God and the words of the book.

“I was not a heretic, as said in your teaching but I was taught other matters.” Lancelot defended himself. “I was taught on the skills and the code of chivalry by the ladies.”

“Aha, the ladies taught you. That could well explain your mannerism.” Friar Tate sighed. “The ever glum and then cheerfulness in them by the movement of the day and night. I will never understand them, ladies.”

“I was not that. I am …. I tend to remain silent most times.” Lancelot snapped back. “Unlike yourself, you are a puppet box with no ends of tales.”

“I am not. I was saying my prayers most times to thank God for allowing us peace in our wanderings. In which to that, I am in need to ask where are we headed?” Friar Tate asked.

“I felt the urge to return to my home. It’s called Joyous.”

“Joyous? I will like that. How far is it?”

“A few days …. Perhaps on your mule but we will make it there.” Lancelot laughed. It was a nice feeling to be back. He wondered how the settlement has progressed without him. He has been hearing tales of Arthur’s rule and all was better.

All was not any better with Centurion Marius. He had his case of coins from the Legatos, and it was sufficient to pay the men and more but there was a note for him.

“Centurion Giles, times are hard upon us at Britannica with the conflicts in the Continent. I have garnered here the coins for you but it may not be regular. I will suggest that you earned your own from the locals. Legatos, Legion Victrix VI.”

The Centurion looked to the Bursar. The other may have read the message without the approval of the Centurion. He had the looks of a child who had done wrong but won’t admit to it.

“Pay the men half and keep the rest. We may need to find more.” The Centurion told the Bursar. He then grabbed his helmet and decided to ride out. He was headed to the Villa of one named Antonio Marcellus. The Bursar watched the Centurion leave and then sent for his aide.

“Tell Lord Bors, that the Centurion is on the way to see the Roman family. Marcellus.”

Back at Camelot, Guinevere was surprised to see Arthur at her chamber. He was dressed in armor and carried Excalibur.

“Ah, my love. I was looking for you. I am in need to travel on my land with my knights. It has been a year since I was seen with them.” Arthur told her. “Will you be alright here?”

“I will be fine, my Lord. Do take care on your journey.” Guinevere replied. She was glad that he was leaving her then. She had felt tired with hi amorous advances although it was done in the chambers, her desire had waved with her concern on Lancelot. Initially, she had thoughts that if she was with his child, she may deter him off but that wish of a child was not be felt. She may be barren as some mid wives had whispered. She had wished it otherwise and there were moments that she felt sad.

Guinevere had conferred with Lady Igraine on this.

“Persevere at it, my dear. Love will come and the child will be there soon.”

“From what if I am barren.” Guinevere had replied in tears. “Arthur wants his heir.”

“I…. If he cannot, then there may be …. Another.” That was what prompted Guinevere to look for Lancelot. He may be her prayer for a child. And it was God’s will that Arthur will be away.

“Thank you,” Guinevere replied in her prayer. “Find him please.”

 

 

Arthur II Book III Chapter 4

 

4.

 

Lancelot took to ride his horse with the friar walking by him. The other was without a ride but he said he preferred to walk. The knight was dressed in the armor and his sword was on his saddle with the rounded shield.

“It means that my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds. Much like to me above is Hell and below is Heaven.” Friar Tate told the knight. “However, a horse may not be my choice of the ride; I wondered for mine the mule will be fine to ride on.”

“I cannot see nor know where to find the mule for you. If I do, just ride it and not mount it.” Lancelot had to add sarcasm to his tone.

“One man’s meat is another man’s …. drink.” Their ride was not far when he saw the two knights approaching them.

“Aye, I think your French would be more atrocious than your Welsh.” The friar said. The friar then admitted his action.

“Yr arian efallai I mi ei gymryd sy; n dod a nhw yma...” (It’s the silver I may have taken that brings them here) The friar replied.

“What were you thinking of then for you to do such act? And upon the French there and on this land?” Lancelot was shocked.

“Bwydo’r tlodion? Wel, fe wnaethant roi bwyd a lloches imi….” The friar pulled up the innocent face. Their talk was interrupted by the two knights who stopped in front of Lancelot.  

“Halt, friar!” One of the two French knights called out. They looked burly in their armor and wield the spear with the shield.

“As-tu bien dormi, Sire?” Friar Tate looked at them. He was sure the potion of herbs and dead insects powdered and mixed with the mead drank by the French would had kept them asleep for days but maybe he was short in supply then.

“I am Sir Lancelot of Camelot. The friar is …. My squire.”

“Camelot? I hear of it. I am Sir Diedre of the Bern and he is Sir Henri of Burgundy, We … How will you place it? Wanderers in these lands.” Sir Diedre was a tall slim frame with the chest and metal greaves and wields the broadsword on the waist besides the shield and spear. Sir Henri was shorter in height but looked stout beneath his bulging armor and was similarly carrying the same weapons.

“And you have been busy with the last war?” Lancelot saw the bounded gladius secured to the saddles.

“Aye, we fought the Romans, not the locals. We fought with Hengist at Gurnion.” Sir Diedre said.

“Then you have not met the Ghost?” Lancelot asked.

“The one they called the Ghost? No, I have not. He as I was told was a strong knight. Did he fight for Hengist too?”

“No, the Ghost fought against Hengist. The Ghost was an ally of the Romans.” Lancelot replied.

“Mon Ami! Then the Ghost is our adversary. Where can we find him? His death by our hands will add to our reputation.” Sir Diedre said.

“The Ghost is before you. I am the Ghost.” 

“Le loup dans la taniere des moutons…” (The wolf in the sheep’ lair.) Sir Henri called out and leveled his spear at Lancelot.

“Non, ce sont les moutons qui sont entres dans l’antre du loup..” (No, it’s the sheep that stepped into the wolf’ lair.) Lancelot then drew his sword.

‘I was from Normandy and knows my French too.” Lancelot said.

The battle was brief with Sir Henri succumbing to the plunge of Arondight at the neck when Lancelot deflected the spear. He pulled Arondight out and rode past the dying French knight. He turned his horse to face the remaining knight.

“Yield, French knight and I may spare your life,” Lancelot called out.

“La vengeance est a moi...” (Vengeance is mine.) Sir Diedre rushed to the Friar and held the spear at the other throat. “Surrender or he dies.”

Lancelot saw the threat and lowered his sword when the friar grabbed the spear below the iron head and pulled hard. The spear came loose to his hands and he twisted it around. He thrust the spear upwards into the knight’s belly.

“I stab at Heavens to cleanse it of the spawn that this Devil wills sow.” Friar Tate pushed with his arms to plunge the spear in deep.

“You are demon incarnate when you hold the spear, Friar.”

“No more than my hatred for them heathen who plagues the land with greed and wanton.” Friar Tate replied. “I do God’s work in removing them and return their bounty to the people.”

“Rob the rich to feed the poor? A noble thought that one day the forests will whisper to the ones that will fight for the poor.” Lancelot lauded the friar. “May your kind be with them to preach the good words too?”

“Aye, I may not but my followers will do so.”

“And they will slaughter the wolves in the sheep’s clothing.” Lancelot mocked the friar with laughter.

“Aye, with laughter and glee.” The friar laughed then.

Later when all was at peace, and the dead buried with the simple ritual to send them off. Friar Tate had the gladius buried too in a different plot to appease the dead souls. He had each gladius buried separately and then prayers were over the small mounds of soil. He then turned to ride with Lancelot on the borrowed horses with the recovered bounty.

“We will donate those to the poor and the monasteries.”

“Aye and the silver you took from them too. I will not be seen to carry the burden of yours on my conscience.” Lancelot laughed. He then turned to look at the friar.

“Friar, those were French and …Romans. How could you recite the words in Welsh to them? They may not get the last rites …” Lancelot said.

“They are on Welsh lands and ate our food and drank our meads. They bloody well know some Welsh or be damned they will end up in hell.” Friar Tate made his remark.

That ended the conversation of the death between those two but not so for one other knight a far distance away.

“I behold the death of Liam Lucker was not a trivial matter.” Belvedere roared out. “Who dares to inflict death upon my kind?”

Belvedere was back at Gurnion and held his daily discussion with the leaders of the Welsh people there. They have built the once derelict castle into a fair one and the Hall restored to seat about thirty of them with the spread of food and drinks on the long tables. Gurnion have thrived in the last year with its settlement tripled and the men under Belvedere more than he could feed.

“Liam died killed by that man.” Chief Gael of Eoghan voiced out. He had stood up and with his right arm; he motioned to the huge man seated at the rear. Belvedere glared at the other who was dressed in the chest armor beneath the thick furs and the wide waist belt to hold the wider girth. On the belt was the sword that likes its wielder, huge and thick. He also held a short handle hammer in his left hand that resembled Thor’s.

“Aye, I killed the man for he had called me a liar. I am a man of honor and none shall accuse me of miss-deeds.” The huge man stood up with the hammer in his left hand.

“And who are you, Sir?’ Belvedere asked. 

“The name is Kay or Cael. I am also known as Kay the Huge. I am not a knight not of here but of the land.” The knight approached Belvedere. “I am called by some as Sir Kay but in truth, I am a wandering fighter for the rights of others who may be robbed or …. Wrongly accused.”

“Step forth, Kay the Huge. My name is Belvedere.” The leader of the Welsh greeted the other.

“You are huge like me but do you hold my strength?” Kay looked at the other. “We can fight.”

That remarks drew the gathered there to reach for the hilt of their swords but Belvedere laughed.

“We will fight but win strength, we will contest.” Belvedere stepped to meet the other. “Never say that the Welsh warrior will stand down on a challenge.”

“Nay will the Irish,” Kay replied. “How will we fight?”

“The contest of strength with being with our arms on a strength of wrestle,” Belvedere asked that a square table was brought forth. It was a heavy oak cut that required two men to carry. The table was placed between the two and stools were brought.

“The oak tree cut will hold our weight and arms. Belvedere looked at Kay. They sat facing each other and locked their right arms with their elbows on the table while the left hand gripped the table on the side... They sat there with the legs positioned apart to hold their stance. With a heave of his breath, Kay flexed his muscle on the right arm and the battle begins. The arms locked at the wrist with the elbows on the base foundation; both men took shallow breaths while flexing their strengths. Both arms will not relent to the other while their bodies were covered with sweats.

“He is strong.” One of the gathered commented.

“He is Welsh.” Another replied.

“I was talking of the Irish.” The earlier one commented back. “My mother is Irish.”

“Leprechaun...” That was all it took to start the brawl but not between the two giants. Belvedere did move his left hand to his thigh and his right arm fell slightly but he right it again.

“My thigh was itchy.”

“Bollocks! Say it right. You got lice there, Welsh.” Kay laughed and his right arm had moved down but he pushed it up.

“And you are a crafty one, Welsh.”

“Tell me why you killed the man,” Belvedere spoke to the Irish.

“He mocked me on my exploits. I did kill many raiders from the Anglo Saxon to the Picts. And even the wild Welsh who raided the settlements.”

“Raids? I will have them hanged.” Belvedere roared while Kay laughed.

“I did that. They shrieked like witches but their sins were expunged.” Kay continued and both laughed. Their laughter was too much that they fell off their stools. When both giants fell, the brawl among the others stopped.

“Why are you fighting?” Belvedere called out.

“He is Irish.”

“And I am Scots.” Another one called out.

“The heck of it let us feast.”  That was the day Belvedere met Kay and they became good friends.

 

Story Write Compilations Volume I Stories 33

 

Awakening my Love.

 

Author's Note:

The gothic version of Sleeping Beauty with an Owl in attendance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

"It's about time, Owl. Do you know how much I need to consume for my beauty sleep?" It's past midnight now and that is the usual time of arrival for the Owl nightly as he brings her daily meal. But tonight he was late as the mice were away for the winter vacation so he had to hunt for the bugs and leeches that come up late.

 

The Princess of the once fable castle now rise from the bedding she has lain for the last twenty-five years and forty-nine days; but who is looking at the calendar when you are supposed to sleep. But not this Princess as she needs to count the days when some Prince will come and cure her of the curse by kissing her lips and declaring his love for her. But after twenty-five years and forty-nine days, she is losing no sleep on the possibility of that happening now.

 

The Princess looked at herself in the mirror by her bed and she was upset that despite her beauty not one of the Prince who came has managed to wake her up. She can see her mascara has smudged onto her cheeks; that was the work of the previous Prince trying to re-do her makeup when he came last. But he is Mortician King's heir, so he did her with the latest design. She smiled at her new mascara design and think its a nice touch to her new looks.

 

She looked further down her chin to her neck and noticed no smudges there. There was one Prince who came to kissed her decided that he would settle for her neck instead causing her uneasy moments as he salivates over her neck to the ears. He may think it's erogenous but she finds it revolting. So she gave him a sniff of her putrid unwashed breath which he ran away shrieking for mouth wash. The Princess sigh as she now passes her prime beauty age and yet no charming Prince has come to claim her as his love.

 

She moved from the dresser and sat down at the dining table. She looked at her palate of bugs and leeches. She pushed it away as she had that for the last three nights. The Owl on seeing her pushed his offerings was offended by her.

 

"Look at me, Princess. If it's not for your darned Godmother, I would not be your Guardian here; bringing you your food and attending to your daily needs. So be grateful, or I shall be forced to terminate my contract with your Godmother." The Owl on being upset will perched himself before her plate and consumed the leeches and bugs. After all, waste, not good food but it does add to the Owl's waist as his vest bulged with the buttons straining at the seams.

 

"Curl in your beak, Owl. I heard that more times than my own mother's grumbling of me being an old maid....." But the Princess was interrupted by the sound of someone coming up the stairs. "Owl, did you lock the front door?"

 

"Princess, I do not use the front door as you know I can fly and the window is always open here or this room will reek of stench and overflowing with dust mites." The Owl flew to the window ledge and looked beyond. "I see no carriages or trams as they called it now. You must be mistaken, my dear. Which Prince in his sane mind will come at this hour?"

 

But the creaking of the stairs was too apparent to be ignored by the two-person in the tower room. The Princess hurried from her dining seat to her bedding, and she laid herself prone to await another suitor.

 

"Princess, you left your vanity pouch here," said the Owl. The Princess peeked at the Owl and motioned to him to bring it over. It contains the certification of her purity in chastity although she is not of the age to worry about it. The Owl comply with her request and just as the door opened to admit in a man.

 

A man who is dressed in a black cloak over his dark suit and white shirt. The lapel of his cloak overreached the back of his head like an upturned hood, and his hair slicked with whatever he had put there to glean like the silverware in most shop fronts. But if one would look into his eyes, you would see the orbs inside is blue and yet its shimmer like those in the movies, and the long nose of his could be only the work of a master in the plastic mold industry. But the uncanny fangs that protrude from the edge of his lips makes him too delicious to resist.

 

"I see before me a damsel of my choice; pure and reeking of past years of uncleaned specks of dirt like me as I have lain in the coffin. Who needs a bath when you are in an enclosed coffin most times." The cloaked man walks towards the sleeping Princess.

 

"Mon Dieu! She is ravishing and yet she is a Princess. I must be courteous as she is no barmaid I have laid my fangs on before. Pardon me, Princess. My name is Count Dracula. I am not a Prince as per your required edict issued by your Godmother; God bless her soul as she lay next to my burial spot. But I am still a Count; an almost equivalent of any Prince in status. It does have about the same alphabet counts and 'C' ranks before 'P'. So I read the edict as the worms gave it to me this morning; I know they are slow in delivery but it's better to be late than never to arrive. So I am here now and I would like to claim you for my bride. Would you take as your equal in the namesake as a groom? Gee, I am so sorry. You are asleep and I need to wake you up before you can hear my declaration for your place with me. Fluster no more, my dear for I know the very thing I need to do to claim you, love. Thank God, this is PG13 rated, or I would be forced to do pre-marital acts. The edict did say to lay my kiss on your lips. And so shall I do so as per instruction."

 

Meanwhile, the Princess who is laying there has this thought in mind; 'git your act in place or your ass will be out of place'.

 

But prevail not as the Count goes down to his knees and slowly uncover the strands of hair that was laying carelessly by the lips of the sleeping Princess. He picked at every strand and lay them in their places by the ears so that they will not get in between his lips and her's. He looks at her beautiful lips covered in the red gloss oil pastel and he thought of one whom he used to desire.

 

"Pour no more on her, me. Here lies one who is better than that one, and yet my manly desires swings to another. I am ashamed of my lustful thoughts. Please forgive me for that, my dear." The Count paused in his move to lay his lips on her's.

 

Meanwhile, the Princess is getting edgy as she awaits the passionate kiss. She tells herself; 'look buster; I can wait for another second as I have waited twenty-five years and forty-nine days.'

 

She did peek through her lashes to see the Prince now really hovering his lips before her's. For whatever reason, she had to ask herself, why do all the men all look down when they kissed us, women.

 

Eureka! She got the answer.

 

'I knew it would work. The undone strings of my bodice would surely draw any bees to the nectar. Aha! I knew that although mama did not tell me. But wait the Count's lips are moving away. But God, this man is going for the nectar instead. I would get you for this, you creep.'

 

But his lips laid on her neck as his lips drawback to uncovered his set of fangs that is now touching her jugular at the neck. The Count with ever careful movements bites down onto the delicate skin and pierced the surface to ventured into her where no man has done before. His fangs sink in with slow deliberate movements reaching for her veins; causing the Princess to reached out in a feeling that she has never experienced before in her life. She could feel her life soul being refreshed and yet being drained by the actions of this man. It brings her pores to exploded off all the putrid clogging of the twenty-five years and forty-nine days. She could feel lifted from the bedding, not by the muscles of her spine but by the needs of herself.

 

"Ah! I have done it. One pint of blood from me to you, and now you complete me. Arise, Princess, and my bride. I have given you a pint of my elixir of life and now you are mine forever." The Count now stands before her with his fangs glistering with the drops of pure blood.

 

The Princess opens her eyes and looked at the man who has awakened her. What she sees is beyond the description of words. She rose to a sitting position and her hand reached for her neck. She felt the spot where he has laid his fangs and she took a swipe at it with her fingers to later sweep onto her lips.

 

"Thank you, my Count. I am ever grateful for you to break my curse after twenty-five years and forty-nine days. My name is...." But the Count hushed her lips with his finger.

 

"Come, my love. We have a world to visit. But first, I need to get you to an oral expert as your breath is absolutely bad." And so the Princess; unnamed to date and the Count left for the town before they can consummate their vows.

 

Meanwhile, the Owl sighed in relief as his contract has just ended. He was to fly off when he saw the pouch left on the bed. It's the Princess chastity certification. He shrugs his wings as he knows she would not need them anymore. So ends another story that the readers never get to read as it was not suitable then to disclose the finer details till now.

 

Signing off. The Guardian Owl of the Sleeping Beauty.

 

 

 

Story Write Compilations Volume I Stories 32

 

Tin soldier 

 

Author's Note:

It was to be a tragic love story. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

I was sent to the front with my squad, and on the way, we were ambushed by a landmine. I survived but the doctor said I needed to have my leg amputated. So I cried and a nurse came to attend to me. She told me to be brave as I am still alive and well despite my leg. I looked at the smiling nurse with her nursing band on her forehead; she looked so angelic in that uniform. She called me the "Tin Soldier" as I have my tin cup strung on a string around my neck like a chain. I did that as I have lost my knapsack and I have no place to hold my tin cup. She held my hand while I sleep waiting for my turn to be operated on.

 

Soon after my amputation, I lay in bed most days but the nurse was there to tend to me. From the nursing visits then became more of a lover's whispers into the late night. But our liaison was not met in agreement with the doctor who was in love with the nurse, He came to me during the night before and whispered into my ears, that he will remove my other leg and also my heart, painfully with every cut of his scalpel so that I can feel the pain onto my soul. I cried for his forgiveness but he denies me any relief from the pain.

 

Whenever I felt pain in my leg, I pleaded for the medicine to ease the pain, but the doctor forbids any to be administered by the other nurses. I cried many a time in pain and one day I decided to take a walk to the garden outside. There I met two more other soldiers who are in leg cast but they said they are being recalled to the front as men are needed there. As one of them put it in words for me; "it's better to die with a bullet than to be in pain here forever.

 

I threw away my crutches and told the men I will join them in battle. For in battle, I may die but I will in be peace to the pains that I have just undergone. I never said goodbye to the nursing angel but the heart stayed on there when they shipped us out in the truck. We were sent to the front and was met by the cruel Lieutenant whose aim was glory at every expense except his life. But I took my place in the trenches, putting on the heavy metal, and holding onto my rifle. I ignored my pain in the leg, and devoid of any emotions, as my heart is not with me. Soon the battle call was heard and the whistle call was made. I climbed the trench wall like the rest and faced the onslaught of bullets which mowed most of us down.

 

Due to my bad leg, I was lucky to fall on my face before the bullets hit my squad. I crawled on my elbow and knees, skirting the barbed wires, and dead bodies of my newly met friends. I peeked back at the trench which I just vacated, I find the officer of my squad still standing in there, hollering commands at his unheard squad members. It was then he saw me.

 

‘You there. Get up and moved on. I will shoot you if you stay on the ground.’ I did not know what I feared more; dead by the bullet by my officer or that of the enemy. But I did; getting up on my good leg, I moved my bad leg forward. And then I moved my good leg forward and so on with my bad leg. And I find myself running ahead, as the image of death on the battlefield was my wish, and I faced those enemies' bullets. But none hit me as yet, when I reached the enemy trench. I jumped in there with my bayonet and stabbed the first enemy I could find. I pulled out my bayonet to see it attached to the dead man’s wallet. I pulled out his wallet from my bayonet, and to my surprise, a photo dropped off. It was a photo of my nurse with the man I just killed. I picked it up and see my love for another man.

 

Or is it I am in love with another man’s love?

 

I am ever confused. It was then, someone finally shot me, and I fell onto the man I just killed. As I lay there for my last breath, I whispered my apology to my nurse for killing his love. I did not mean to do it, but I believe I do love her more than anyone. And I closed my eyes for the day I will meet my maker. It was not what I expected, to be awake in the same hospital that I was in before. I looked at my wounds, and find my bad leg all bandaged. I looked across the room and saw her coming towards me. I wanted to tell her about the killing but she hushed me with her finger on my lips.

 

‘You just came out of surgery. We saved your leg, and you will be fine.’ And so she left me for her work with other patients. The ‘devious’ doctor then came, and checked my bandages; ‘you will be fine. She will take care of you well.’

 

‘Ain’t you jealous?’ I asked. ‘Me? No, why should I be? Everyone knows you love her. You made it known in your declaration of love in the surgery room. We all heard you loud and clear. she knows now too how much you love her. So do recover.’ I looked at the nurse who healed me, and I was lost for words. Was it a dream I went through and I am now really awake? I must have been as she is standing before me. She took the words from me and hugged me for the first time since the surgery. And it was also our last time, as we never saw the bomb that landed on the ward. I guess we died that day, but our love will live on.