Thursday, January 13, 2005
Posted some time ago, and shortly thereafter deleted for reasons duely withheld, I present to you:
The knight ran up the final flight of stairs, armour clinking. His rough boot near tearing the red carpet under his weight. Sword still in hand, he paused, centre of the hall, twenty foot pillars swirling all around him and slouched. His posture now haunched forward, sword point rested on the ground with a clash, he looked up, to the top of the stairs, and down again, to where he had come from.
Behind him, down the stairs is a door, half the height of the room, and beyond that is darkness everywhere, enemy knights slain, bent backwards over railings, cliffs, strewn about as though disaster had struck.
The toils and troubles he had persevered to reach this place were innumerable. The only driving thought: the princess bunkered away beyond the last flight, the last door.
Although he was surely tired from his great battles seen beforehand, his pace was unbearably slow. Fear of success? Fear of the unknown beyond the door? He rested on the last step, with his back to the door.
From within, he heard a voice. A woman's voice. "I'm over here! Come, take me away, my hero!"
His head sunk. What should be his greatest moment is now his hardest. "I am no hero! I am inadequate...Only a monster, a whimp whose shiney armour is but rusted tin." He had only to stand up, turn around and open the door to be on his merry way, but instead, he sat there, everything at an arm's length away.
An Arm's Length Away
The knight ran up the final flight of stairs, armour clinking. His rough boot near tearing the red carpet under his weight. Sword still in hand, he paused, centre of the hall, twenty foot pillars swirling all around him and slouched. His posture now haunched forward, sword point rested on the ground with a clash, he looked up, to the top of the stairs, and down again, to where he had come from.
Behind him, down the stairs is a door, half the height of the room, and beyond that is darkness everywhere, enemy knights slain, bent backwards over railings, cliffs, strewn about as though disaster had struck.
The toils and troubles he had persevered to reach this place were innumerable. The only driving thought: the princess bunkered away beyond the last flight, the last door.
Although he was surely tired from his great battles seen beforehand, his pace was unbearably slow. Fear of success? Fear of the unknown beyond the door? He rested on the last step, with his back to the door.
From within, he heard a voice. A woman's voice. "I'm over here! Come, take me away, my hero!"
His head sunk. What should be his greatest moment is now his hardest. "I am no hero! I am inadequate...Only a monster, a whimp whose shiney armour is but rusted tin." He had only to stand up, turn around and open the door to be on his merry way, but instead, he sat there, everything at an arm's length away.