Day 359 Writing Short Stories

Justice

The little cosmic justice, not karma, not divine intervention, just the thought of how it should be, swirled in the air, radiating, turning, changing, altering the course of events. You could call it a spaceship, a UFO, or any such thing, but she called it sanity.

Idol

The armor seemed so big. So massive that it was no wonder the kingdom was feared far and wide. She watched the knight and his guns in awe. Sir Knox and his army marched into her little establishment. She had been informed beforehand that they would take shelter tonight. The place had been secured, and the royal space army had arrived. Her staff was gawking at the knights from every door, every nook, every perch. She expected the knights to shoo them away, but they didn’t. They took in the admiring gazes.

She gathered her courage and walked up to Sir Knox.

“Lord,” she said.

The helmet came off. The red eyes were changed to dark brown. The head was smaller than she thought it would be. Less dangerous and more like anyone else’s.

“Lord,” she tried again. “We have prepared a feast for you, and your chambers are ready if your men are weary.”

“Thank you, kind madam. We welcome your service and are prepared to eat in an hour.”

She nodded and rushed to have her orders sent.

She returned to the common room, seeing the skeletons of the armors and the little men to whom they belonged. It was so odd to see the knights without their war suits. They were scrawny with muscles, sure, but smaller than most who worked for her in the stockrooms and in the kitchens.

She watched as her staff swirled around the men, laughing as they served the ale and other refreshments. As the food arrived and the night grew older, the room smelled of smoke, stale sweat, and ale; the knights seemed less like knights. The laughter she had heard before had died down from her staff and roared out from the knights. They behaved as they wanted, owning everything.

She had to intervene more often than she cared for, especially with Sir Knox trying to squeeze her servants. All she got was an earful of know your place. All she could do was watch in horror as the night unfolded. She began serving stronger drinks to send the knights to sleep before anything too bad happened, but Sir Knox was made of stronger stuff. Men around him fell, but he stood against the spirits.

She was getting desperate as the knight swayed in his underwear and was making crude gestures towards her niece. She bit her lip and rushed to the kitchen, only to emerge with a shot that would knock out an ox. When it did, she sighed and watched the passed-out knight.

She let her staff go. They dragged their feet. She herself stayed up, cleaning and guarding the place from the knights.

Goat Herder

Goat Herder teaches a scholar a thing or two about life. I skipped this one.

The prompts are from the book A Year of Creative Writing Prompts.

I had an idea for the Idol story, but I didn’t quite get it as I wanted. But I don’t have time to fix it. Now I have to rush to work.

Thank you for reading ❤ Have a day of sanity!