I was organizing some files on my computer and I found an old piece that I wrote for my freshman English class.  I still remember how much fun it was to write this!

The words spoken to me were that of a thousand swords piercing my heart.  My friend, he labeled me… ME… not as a friend, not as an assistant, but as his squire.  Squire!  And dare he not… but… oh… he did, he offered me money, one shilling for a job I would willing run, a task I would do out of the kindness and loyalty of my heart.

Pain caused by a friend, mixed with rage and anger in my heart caused a combination of great danger within me.  Bitterness and fury began to brew an awful potion within my body, using it as a caldron.  This potion made me yearn to speak harsh, unwanted words to this so-called friend.  But somehow, through a power unknown to me and foreign to my soul, I spoke soft, calm words swallowing those of hatred that swam in my head and danced on my tongue.  “It shall be done, master.”

Off I was, enraged and insulted, to return to the inn and fetch the sword that belonged to Kay, a task worth the offer of a shilling.  Anger still roared in my body, running through my veins, mixing with my blood, and filling me with thoughts and feelings unwelcome.  A shilling!  A shilling!  My body tremble with the thought and my blood began to boil.

“To offer me money!”  I cried to myself. “To look down at this beastly little donkey-affair of his great charger and call me squire!  Oh, Merlyn, give me patience with the brute, and stop me from throwing his filthy shilling in his face.”

To my great displeasure the inn was abandoned, the doors double locked and the gate chained, and captured inside was Kay’s sword, confined like a hostage in this prison.  What was I to do?  I couldn’t return to Kay without his sword, or… Or… if I did, humiliation would fall on Kay and he could have a glimpse of how I felt.  Revenge?  Me seek revenge on my friend of many years for an act he committed mindlessly?  That is couldn’t do.  To my friend Kay, though he insulted me, I must be loyal, a sword for him I was sent to get, and with a sword for him, I will return.

Upon the back of my stead, I sat, and off we went in search of a sword suitable for Kay’s competition. I hoped to find a swordsmith, but to my ironic shock, none were found in the town I occupied.  In fact, it appeared that I was the only occupant of the town at the time, for everyone gathered at the arena for the great tournament.

One street left to search, three buildings stood together on the right, and to my left four buildings existed.  Straight ahead the road did end with an elegant church.  Guarded by a lych gate, the church stood alone in its beauty trying to tell a story I didn’t understand.  I decided that to this great church I would retire and catch my breath.  I fished in the sea of words to find my explanation to Kay for why I returned with no sword in my hand.  Time and time again I rehearsed my dull but true misfortunes of the afternoon.

I approached the gate and there my brain absorbed the extraordinary site of the churchyard.  Once at the foot of the gate, I dismounted my trusted stead and tied his leather reigns to the wood posts.

Ahead a beautiful church stood with walls of white stone, and the windows… oh… the windows.  The windows were made of glassed stained in all colors of the rainbow and elegantly the pieces were placed together to form exquisite designs of men basking in glory.  A great light shone through the masterpieces of glass casting tinted shadows over the churchyard.

Music rang in my ears, and I was being beckoned to follow the path of gravel.  It wound this way and that way leading me through the shadows of the glorious men.  My ears became keen to the sound of the gentle melody of the harp.  As my feet disturbed peaceful path, the music became louder and more intense.

Twisting and turning, the road led me blindly to a sight I knew not to be existent, a sight that one can only dream.  I stand here now in front of this marvel, this miracle, this… this… I stand here now in front of wonderful sight.  The pure silver brighter then the sun, the stones, of color more vivid then paint and neatly arranged.  For this sight that I do fix my stare is none other then a sword piercing an anvil set in stone.

Published in: on 04.11.2011 at 11:13 am  Comments (1)  

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  1. Geez LoraJo! You wrote that your freshman year of high school??? You have a natural talent and I am so glad that you’re using it! Looking forward to reading more!

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