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| Thread: The short story contest - Part II | |
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Lady_Milena
Honorable
Known Hero
Grannie Sweet Cheeks
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posted June 09, 2006 11:37 PM |
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The short story contest - Part II
This is the last submission I received. I would like to thank the aithor for the time and energy invested and wish them good luck. 
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The Contest
Written by: FOG
It was during the 20th year of the reign of King Wallapurtin that the King made an announcement to the world. In one year's time, he declared, the Kingdom of Latvinia was going to be hosting the most magnificent cooking competition that Europe had ever known.
First I will fill in some background. For those of you who don't know where or what Latvinia it is, it is the tiny country that is nestled in between Swisseringia, The Kingdom of the Churls, and the Holy Shmoly Empire. As befitting its location however, it has become renowned as a type of crossroads, where cultural ideas pass through and intermingle with other cultures to form something new. It is this country in which Prince Wallapurtin was made King twenty years ago.
Not too long after Wallapurtin was crowned he wed his wife, who promptly bore him a daughter. Whether by cultural acclimation or by natural inclination this daughter, whom he named Rosa Ilena, grew up to acquire the most refined and adventurous taste in food that a person could possibly have. And as all fathers of single daughters tend to do, the King made it his mission to spoil her. He summoned chefs from all over the world to come present their best and finest dishes and he paid them what they were worth, as befit their stature.
So it was that the daughter spent her early years toddling around the kitchens of some of the best cooks to have ever trod the soil of Europe. And still her taste for adventurous food never seemed to be sated. Meanwhile, as the years passed, the Queen bore no sons that could lay claim to the throne, or for that matter, any other daughters as well.
This indulgence of the royal Princess did not come without burdens however. The royal stable roof grew leaky, the dust grew deep in the ramparts, and the royal church complained of it's faded and worn vestments. But there was no better food to be had anywhere than in the tiny kingdom of Latvinia. Restaurants opened, chefs relocated, food vendors came by the droves, and a person could not call himself a true gentleman until he had spent a week sampling the many fine delicacies that were proffered there. And sadly for the King, as the Princess passed through her formative years the Queen still bore no other children.
So it was that when Rosa Ilena finally came of age, the King decided that in order to find an heir to the throne, he would hold a competition. And as befitting the daughter's inclinations, the contest was going to be a competition of chefs. The prize was to be a golden apple, the hand of his daughter in marriage, and eventually the Kingdom of Latvinia, which was itself famous throughout the world for it's fine textured custard.
There were three rules above all others.
1. Every dish you make must be new and original.
2. Once you enter the kitchen you are not allowed to leave.
3. No custard
As a person who began life as a simple peasant I was excited by the possibilities. Cooking had been my passion ever since I could grasp a spatula in my tender hands. Despite my poor upbringing and my Brenglish origin almost everyone that took time to sample my creations came away impressed. Step by step I climbed the ladder of success until I found myself in the Kingdom of the Churls where I finally got an appointment as the second underassistant to the Head Chef at the Royal Guesthouse in Le Seignon. Besides working harder than I’d ever imagined, I spent my years there sampling exotic ingredients, dabbling in new foods, and perfecting variations of the old standards. So it was that when I first heard about the King's contest my immediate reaction was that it was the perfect thing to exercise my love for cooking, competition, and adventure. And as Latvinia was not that far away I really didn't have an excuse not to. So it was that when the contest arrived, I sold everything I owned and borrowed the rest to make the journey.
During my travels to Latvinia I had a great many adventures which I really don’t have the time to describe here. Likewise I could go on for awhile about how enthralled I was with the tiny kingdom and how warm and hospitable and festive it was during the cooking trials. All of this however would be a great distraction from the story, so I will just leave all these descriptions for a later time. My story truly begins at the point that my ardors began, which is to say when the King finally presented himself to the public and initiated the opening ceremonies of the greatest cooking contest Europe had ever known.
The first two weeks were the preliminary rounds. The emphasis at this point was on the ability to competently render a traditional dish although it goes without saying that the judges were also scrutinizing the chefs for creativity and flair. I can say authoritatively that if I had been dismissed at the end of this two week preliminary trial the entire experience would still have been worth it. I cannot begin to describe the excitement that drove all of us as we met young culinary specialists from all over the world, exchanging ideas and formulations, and then going out to carouse into the wee hours of the night. During those two weeks I think I deprived myself of more sleep than at any other time of my life. If it wasn't for the week that followed I would have to say that it was the absolute apogee of my entire life. It was eclipsed however because at the end of the two weeks I was one of the 64 that was selected to continue on into the final week. Of this development I was thrilled. To be publicly acknowledged as a member of such a cooking elite made me flush with pride.
We entered the last week of the contest. The procedure was that every contestant was to be matched up against another contestant in a "duel". The winner of course would progress to the next round to face the next competitor. My first and second days were supremely interesting challenges, but I believe them to be really only of interest to students of the culinary arts so I won't narrate them here. I'll just say that by no means did I dispatch Dom Whiskowski and Monsieur Mussetard easily, and if I was to be completely fair to them and their heroic efforts, they would receive much more time in my story. Unfortunately however I will have to pass them by and skip ahead to my third challenger instead.
On that day I was matched up against the famous Churlish cook Jacques Elanateau who headed up the Acadamie de Sucheboir, which was coincidentally a fierce rival to my own Royal Guesthouse in terms of reputation. I was familiar with his cooking style and I was not surprised when he trotted out yet another variation of his overrated flans. His one advantage though was that he had invented a sophisticated version of the very vulgar and common éclair. The royals all loved it as they felt that they were dipping their toes into the culture of the unruly masses without actually having to sample the danger. I had known previously though that Elanateau would be attending the competition and I was prepared for just this very occasion.
First of all I got up early that day to seek out the best eggs that the local farmers were offering. Then I asked around for much as time I could spare until I finally ended up in the dimly lit cellar of an Frisian inn paying 3 times the normal rate for the best pastry flour that was to be had in all of Europe. When the time came I finally brought out my special stone cooking trays, kept carefull watch over the baking ovens, and ended up demolishing my rival with my own rendition of the traditional brandied cream puff. Victory was sweet.
My chaps at the Royal Guesthouse would be proud. Oh how I would have liked to watch him mount his carriage and depart back to Le Seignon with head hung low. Unfortunately though I knew his predilections and I was sure that he would be staying here in the city and indulging himself in rampant whoring until his assigned budget had been completely dissipated.
Irregardless, he completely dropped from my mind during the 4th day, which was an interesting day in it's own right and probably the most challenging day yet. However I won't go into the details because something else happened which was to be of much interest later. What happened was my friend Arinoldo got removed from the competition by a certain Duke Willstrom.
First some introduction. I had met and befriended Arinoldo during the two week run up trials when we bunked in the same rooming house and discovered that we shared a mutual affinity for Turkish and Syrian pastries. I could bore you with details but I'll just say that we spent a half-hour alone just talking about orange blossom water.
I talked to him after the competition. He had been doing a bread and lentils main preparation with pressed cheese and arabic mustard greens and he was talking about how the fire in the stove had gone out and he had lost immense amounts of time continually trying to rekindle it. And then once the wood finally did get going it was steamy which resulted in the bread's crust being soggy. He shared some of the meal's leftovers with me and we sat down and commiserated over his ejection from the contest. It was going to be a sad farewell to watch him return to his home province of Latapasta having come so far in the contest. Although I commiserated with him the truth was that I was somewhat relieved that I did not have to face him in the finals. Not only because he was a friend but also because I knew how much he understood food and with what a deep innate sensibility he did so. He could have been my most serious challenger during the entire proceedings, I believe, if he had been allowed to continue.
When we entered the 5th day I got lucky and faced off against the Alpatian chef Ponce de Veriga. Everybody knew he was in trouble, for he had shot his load too in the early rounds, using up his famous “Corned Grusard” and “Boat of Truffled Mussels” on weak contenders like the chef at the Court of Aleman.
For this day I had prepared a mushroom Soufflé, roasted and seasoned pheasant, a raisin-rye-almond stuffing, and a braised escarole dish that served as perfect counterpoint to the heavy dishes already on the menu. And then finally to wrap things up: a rhubarb pie with a fiery cinnamon sauce. Just to kick him when he was down though, I threw in a marvelous curdled goat’s milk and fruit concoction that I had learned from Arinoldo. I was highly pleased with the results.
Imagine my surprise when out of five judges only three ended up voting for me. I was highly dismayed. During the appraisal part of the match-up they all mentioned that my dishes were highly creative but that they also believed the meal didn't sit very well after everything had been brought together. I was crushed. And I had to admit that perhaps they were right. This was a major bruise to my ego. While I should have been happy to progress to the final round, I felt lucky instead that I had not been completely thrown out altogether.
One final note to this day was that by this time in the competition both the King and the Princess were sampling every dish that the cooks were creating. Since their hidden vote was not needed for the final outcome however I did not get to know what they thought of my preparations. I was going to get the opportunity on the morrow though because they were coming to interview us while we rested and prepared ourselves for the final duel. I was thrilled of course, for I had been hoping to meet the Princess whether or not I actually made it to the final stages. I was waiting in the royal anteroom that day when she came up to me and initiated the conversation.
"Mr. Stirrington…" she began, "rhubarb tart with cinnamon. What a refreshing and novel idea. I congratulate you."
She smiled at me warmly and I shook her offered hand.
"The pleasure is all mine, Princess Rosa Ilena" I said. "And truthfully, I am really rather proud of that discovery."
“You do seem to have a passion for cooking Mr. Stirrington“
“Why yes, I do. Food is a vector for emotion, I believe. When you lounge back with a fruit Sangria you are feeling the reverie of the saints as they progress up to heaven. When you dig your spoon into a mutton pie you are tasting the warm feelings of a happy hearth and home. When you taste the hot fire of the new world savages it makes your libidinous wild urges surge. You want to conquer and destroy. You want stand atop your enemies and drink their blood from a skull!”
I had my hands raised in dramatic gestures and she stood back a step in appreciation of my little monologue.
“My, you certainly have a way with words too, Mr. Stirrington”
“Sorry, I do get carried away.”
“Not at all. This is a marvelous time that we are living in isn’t it? All these new flavors and sensations being delivered to us with every returning ship from the New World.”
“Marvelous indeed. I have just heard that there is a tree in the northern climates that if you insert a spout into it the most wonderfull tasting sap will gush forth.”
“Interesting, and what would you do with this sap, Mr. Stirrington?”
“Well my first inclination is to raise a type of warm buttery bun. Then I would split this bun open and place a large logger of ham inside of it. Then I would permeate the entire concoction with this marvelous sap.”
She paused breathless.
I realized a second later that what I’d said could be misconstrued.
“Well now, I mean ah…”
“That’s allright, I know what you mean.” she smiled.
I felt myself blushing
"Ah, here is the other finalist." she said as a distinguished looking man entered the anteroom.
"Princess Rosa Ilena. What a pleasure it is to be illuminated by your presence once again"
“You’ve met?” I said, taken aback
“Oh yes, at the Holy Emperor's first coronation" the man said. "Even then I knew, this beautifull maiden was going to be disrupting my life in some unknown yet wonderfull way.”
"Now remember, it's your cooking skills that will win the golden apple, not your smooth tongue, Duke" the Princess replied.
So it was the Duke. The self-same Duke Willstrom that had knocked Arinoldo out of the competition. After his polite distinguished laughter subsided he turned towards me.
"Mr. ahh…Stirrington is it."
I nodded
"I understand you’ve had no formal education."
That was a fairly bold effrontery. It was not the first time though that it had happened to me. I turned to the Princess.
"Well that’s because I believe that if you were born to do something, if you have the passion, than the art will come from your fingertips unbidden."
She gazed at me without answering. I detected a glimmer of a smile on her face though, like someone who had suddenly found another person with whom they thought they could share a kindred humour.
"Come from your fingertips unbidden." The Duke replied. "Yes of course. What do you think about that Princess?"
Her gaze passed back to the Duke.
"I believe it's possible to have the passion, because I too have the passion. Unfortunately though my father has spoiled me the best that he possibly can. My own culinary skills are that of an infant. And an indolent one at that."
The Duke and I gave an affectionate laugh.
"Surely your skills cannot be that bad?" I said.
She didn't answer me right away but instead turned to the Duke whilst still managing to find a way to charm the culottes off of me.
"Duke Willstrom, I see that you have been consorting with Rugeroff Korinoff."
"Rugeroff Korinoff and I have been working together on a dessert that will awaken even the most jaded palate. Something that will completely astonish even such a refined taste as your's and the King's."
This worried me. Korinoff was the most highly sought after chef in Europe. It was only by promising him a special Krynean estate that the Czar of Zeruhshia had been able to catch him for the Imperial court there.
"I'm looking forward to it, Duke."
“How did…." I began to ask.
“Personal friend of mine." He answered shortly.
"Well…" the Princess said in the awkward dead air. "Such two nice gentleman. I hate that somebody will have to lose this competition."
“My fair Princess, I would accept losing this contest if I could only but create one dish that would bring a smile to your face." the Duke said.
The Princess laughed.
“It certainly looks like you have a way with words too, Duke.”
She paid him a courteous warm smile and then turned to me.
"Well, it was good to meet you Mr. Stirrington."
"The pleasure was all mine, Princess…"
I turned to the Duke.
“And it was nice to meet you Sir…”
“It’s Duke.”
I paused.
“Well it was nice to meet you Duke Willstrom”
We exchanged handshakes and I left to continue my preparations.
I awoke the next morning filled with zeal for the competition. The duke had been responsible for the mid-day supper meal, and I was going to be responsible for the evening meal. I slowly bided my time in the bunkhouse whilst reviewing the procedures that I would be enacting as soon as I had the chance. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, the hour finally arrived and I bundled my knives beneath my arms and walked into the kitchen prepared for the most strenuous labor of my life.
Final Preparations:
My opener was going to be a type of baked tart: A simple crust overlaid with a mixture of cheeses and graced with a fine layer of toasted chestnuts sprinkled on top.
For the main entree I was going to be serving a filleted goose, covered in a thick salty apricot glaze, smothered in finely toasted wheat and barley bread crumbs with just a hint of pepper to leave an impression on the tongue long after the food had been safely shuttled to diner's stomach.
To balance the filleted goose I was going to serve a medley of winter vegetables such as parsnip, carrot, potato, and turnip in a creamy sauce with a medley of herbs.
As a further side dish I was going to be serving spiced cabbage rolls with onion, beef, liver, 3 different kinds of mushrooms and morels, and some of the exotic 'pepper' extracts from the new world that were starting to gain popularity in Europe.
And finally, for the piece de resistance I was going to serve a multi-layer chocolate crisp with chocolate ganache and a two-berry swirled glazing such that every bite presented a new combination of flavors. As always the devil was in the details and I spent nearly the entire previous day auditioning ingredients and rejecting tired ones that did not awaken my jaded palate.
I had half-way gone through my preparations when I went to retrieve the meats that I had prepared the previous day. I immediately noticed that something was wrong when I checked the cage that the goose had been interred in and noticed a sickly smell coming from it. I looked closer and saw the goose was lame and moving as if with a tremor. I was stunned. How could it have gotten so sick so quickly? I got an even bigger surprise when I went to retrieve the salted beef that I had specially picked out the previous day. It was sweating and putrid! My mind reeled. How could this have happened? I had carefully selected both of these items the previous day. There's no way that they could have degraded this fast. My mind reeled in circles until it rested on the only thing that could possibly make sense. This was sabotage! Was the Duke powerfull enough to actually bribe his way into the inner circles of the King? With a shock I realized he was. I was panic stricken now. It was too late to switch to a vegetarian menu. Everything that I intended to serve to the judges had these flavor gaps which the meat was supposed to fill.
I stood there watching the sickly goose and thought about what I had left of the meal:
My chestnut cheese tart, the chocolate crisp, and my medley of tubiferous winter vegetables. I also had the mushroomy cabbage roll with spice. No that would fall flat without the livery-beefy flavor to serve as the foundation.
I sat down in the store room with an air of complete despair. The number two rule was that you aren't allowed to leave the kitchen after entering it. I could protest to the guards but I had no doubt that they had been influenced too. What could I do? I looked around. Just then a thought occurred to me but it was so drastic that I put it out of my head immediately.
I looked at my future. I began life as a poor peasant and perhaps I should be gratefull for what I had been blessed with so far. In my life perhaps I would eventually attain some type of high position in a royal household. And what then perhaps? Nothing.
I looked to what I was losing. The kingdom, the golden apple, the Princess.
If this had occurred before meeting the Princess I might have considered that option. But she had already made an impression on me that I couldn't let go. She was intelligent, beautifull, charming, and I’ve never met another woman who shared the same passion for food that I did. I wanted that, and I decided I was going to have it, no matter what the cost. I knew I could win this contest. I must win this contest. I began to take my idea and roll it forward to gain some momentum. Even then, I thought to myself, if the idea doesn't work out then I can be satisfied in knowing that I will be leaving a story for the Latvinians to tell generations afterwards. I slowly looked down and prepared to think my previously unthinkable option.
I finished the meal with great difficulty and then sat down to wait the 3 hours for King and the Princess to eat the meal and discuss it. I knew it was getting dark outside even though there were no windows in the kitchen to confirm it. Finally a guard came in and told me that the winner was going to be announced. My heart leapt wildly as I made my way to the banquet room where I was to hear my fate. I caused a stir when I entered, as I expected. The King was not yet there so I begged to sit down. Minutes later the King entered and sat on his throne. He spoke.
"Firstly, I want to thank you both for coming here and contributing your fine talents to this contest. I was an extraordinary event and naturally it would have been impossible without your due diligence and efforts. Having said that, let's just jump right in, shall we?"
He turned to the Duke first.
"Duke Willstrom"
"Yes my Lord"
"Thankyou for coming and contributing your estimable talents to this fine contest."
"The pleasure was all mine."
"We'll start at the beginning. The date wine you presented us at the beginning of the meal was refreshing and new. Did you add any spices to it?"
"Yes I did indeed. My own special dried blend."
"It was very intriguing. All of us at the meal talked about it a great deal."
"Thankyou my lord"
"The 7 layer mutton pastry dish was very tasty. I take it that you had simmered the different layers in different meat broths."
"Ah yes, your taste is as refined as your reputation claims."
"Ahem, yes…Anyway, it was a good idea. Moving on…The carrots and parsnips in yak butter was fantastic"
'Yak butter?' I thought.
"Duke Willstrom I should say that I was expecting great things from you and I was not disappointed."
He looked over at me in triumph.
"There was a couple of shortcomings with your meal though, Duke…."
His grin evaporated.
"The segmented spice cake with the reservoir of nectar was a brilliant idea but it lacked something in the execution. Yes of course the little confectionery swans swimming on the pond of fruit nectar was a clever idea but it all seemed contrived for show, without any real desire for harmony of the spices and the nectar and the confectioneries."
So this was the secret boost from his Zeruhshian friend. I was relieved that his special tutoring had fallen flat.
"It was very entertaining though." The King continued.
The Duke gulped.
"Thankyou, my lord"
"The other shortcoming is that there wasn't anything truly extraordinary about your meal. It is true that the carrot and parsnip dish was incredible, and then of course there was the date wine, but you are really putting yourself out on a limb if you expect to win the competition with side dishes and beverages.
The look on his face gradually changed into astonishment while a surge of hope began to fill me.
"On the whole though it was a well thought out and well executed meal."
Allright, I didn't know exactly what to think at this point.
"Mr. Stirrington"
"Yes, my King"
"Your meal… was a most pleasant surprise."
"Your words fill me with pride, King"
"Very well. The cheesy tarts that you sent to us at the beginning of the meal were an amazing introduction. What is the Churlish word for that?…"
I didn't know what he was talking about.
"Well anyway, the tarts didn't fill me up but yet they satisfied my stomach and prepared my appetite for the main course at the same time. It was an excellent experience, perhaps the best I've had in a long time."
I was flushed with pride. I had held back the tarts until the very end, which was a gamble that I had deliberated on long and hard. He paused before continuing.
"The winter tubiferous medley was good, although a bit of a let down compared with the rest of the meal. I don't know, perhaps I wasn't in the mood for vegetables."
The court laughed at this. I was somewhat put at ease too.
So now we come to the entrée.
"The goose, I think you said it was, in that tangy apricot sauce and overflowing with bread crumbs it had to be one of the most delectable experiences in this whole competition. It was also of the most interesting variety, a kind I’ve never tasted before. And then the apricot glazing was a most perfect and succulent counterpoise. The triumvirate of flavors presented on my plate was simple yet wholly effective and convincing at the same time. I found the entire thing quite delicious and was looking forward for more. My only regret was the small portions. As a matter of fact I think it took longer to describe eating it than it actually did to eat it."
The court laughed at this. If only they knew how funny it truly was.
"Thankyou my King." I said.
"On the other hand the cabbage rolls were not anything to be excited over. Did you use the same meat for the cabbage rolls that you used for the apricot-bread crumbs preparation?
"Yes, King"
"Well if I was going to point out the biggest and most detracting flaw in your meal that would have to be it."
"I understand King"
"It just didn't seem to come together. The cabbage rolls I mean."
"Yes King"
"So now we come to the dessert. The triple layer chocolate crisp was a most intriguing and competent use of this new chocolate flavour. I've instructed my chefs to see you after the upcoming announcement and we will be looking at your creation and perhaps putting it on the regular menu. Maybe after some adjustments though. On the whole though I'd have to say well done. That was Stonehenge on the top wasn't it? We all had a good laugh over that one"
"Yes it was, thankyou."
I tried to digest what he had just said. I hadn't quite finished when he continued.
"All in all I'd like to say a 'Well Done' for your entire meal. I can see now plainly why you two individuals made it to the final round. So I am ready now to announce the winner." The King looked at his daughter, who was looking only at me! Did that mean I won?!
A courtier slammed his halberd down.
“All rise!”
I leaned to my foot. Thankfully there was an assistant there to help me.
The King was about to read his own royal edict but stopped when he noticed my leg.
“Mr. Stirrington, I recall that the last time I saw you, you had two legs.”
“Yes that’s correct, there was a bit of an accident in the kitchen.”
“An accident, what kind of accident? The King said.
“Well uh… I had to uh…. cut my leg off you see because the meat that I found waiting for me was utterly spoiled and as you know the rules stipulate that we aren’t allowed to leave the kitchen once we enter it and I’m quite sure it was sabotage but there really wasn’t anything that I could do about. And uh…I thought about doing a vegetarian menu but it was already too late. And this…uhh…this was the only idea I could think of.”
I could feel the entire court's gaze fixed upon me.
“Are you trying to tell me that….”
He shifted on his throne.
“Are you saying that we ate your leg?”
“Afraid so, yes.”
Another shifting on his throne. And a pause.
"And…" another pause.
"and you're suggesting sabotage is the reason that you did this, is that correct?"
"Um, yes King, I'm quite sure. There's no other possibility I could think of."
The King glanced over at the Duke. The Duke didn’t return his gaze.
If silences could be heavy, this one was golden. Just like gold it lasted for a long time too.
"Well that would explain…a lot of things." he said
Finally the King turned to the Princess, who was staring at me wide-eyed too.
“mmm…. What do you think Rosa?”
She smiled at me, and my heart lifted several feet off the floor and kept going until it was out of the building.
“Well, I think… I think it was the best food in the whole competition.”
still silence
“Go on Father, what are you waiting for?” she prodded. She smiled at me again.
The king stood still for a moment longer and then managed to collect himself. Well as I was about to say the best food is….I mean the best food belongs to…..er, I mean uh…The winner of the Kingdom cooking contest is….Mr. Stirrington..”
Trumpets blared and a quartet of courtiers proceeded out with the Golden apple, presented on a velvet cushion. I looked at the Princess. She smiled back at me with the sincerest joy that a man could hope for.
"Ah Mr. Stirrington." The King said.
"Yes my King."
"Now that you've won the competition, you'll be spending a fair bit of time around the house. And hopefully cooking for us as well."
"With great pleasure."
"I just have one request though,
"Anything"
"Please let us know in advance the next time you intend to serve Stirrington."
The audience chamber rocked in laughter. The Princess meanwhile had stepped off the dais and slowly made her way to me. I was happy. Without a doubt it was the greatest day of my life, despite losing a limb.
1 week later:
We were sitting next to each other on our matrimonial bed. The thick royal overlay was pulled up and she held it against her chest.
I was sitting with about a months worth of relaxedness permeating my body.
She broke the silence.
“You know it’s too bad really”
“Pardon me?”
“It’s too bad really that you had to cut your leg off.” she said.
“Well I wanted the prize that was being offered more than anyone else in the land. It’s only fitting really.”
“Oh yeah, that, right…”
“There was no other way I could think of to finish the meal” I said.
She was silent
“I’m sorry I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” I told her.
“Oh nevermind.”
“Come, my love.”
“Well I was just going to say that you really didn’t have to cut your leg off.” She leaned over and kissed me.
“The truth is I was going to pick you anyway.” She smiled at me and grasped my arm whilst leaning her head down upon my shoulders.
I leaned back and absorbed what she said. The golden apple stood on the bureau on the other side of the room and stared at me. I stared back. Oh well what’s done is done. You can’t unspill milk, you can’t uncrumble a cookie, and you can’t undo a fantastic meal.
Again she broke the silence.
“Why don’t you tell me more about the hot buttery bun and the ham inside of it and the sap smothered over it all.”
“Tell you?” I said. “How about I show you?”
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God does not need exist to save us...
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Lady_Milena
Honorable
Known Hero
Grannie Sweet Cheeks
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posted June 26, 2006 09:01 PM |
bonus applied. |
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This is the 4th story entered in the contest.
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“THE MAGIC OF LIFE - MEMOIRS OF THE CHOSEN”
Written by: TDL
It was around six o’clock in the morning when I left the building. The alehouse I slept in was as cozy as it could be, but somehow I did not feel like at home here. I gazed at the sword I always carried with myself, which once again hung on my belt, clearly thinking whether it will sting my legs or not.
The morning was yet to come when I stepped into the greater square of the town. I felt like a hero who was about to slay a dragon, but that was purely my imagination. The goal was even greater, I thought, and there were plenty of time left before it happens…There were still six hours until it happens and I felt as if I needed to walk around the town for a while… For the last time, if it may be.
I turned around the corner to see how people are moving around. The sighting rekindled long forgotten sensations I once felt. Kids running around, enjoying themselves… People, without a single thought that could ruin the day, roaming the alley, chatting and laughing with each other. A tear slid from my eyes and I temporarily closed my eyes. I was a man… I had to be strong… I had to be… Even though the rule was meant to be broken, I wanted not to burst into tears as a girl, especially in front of other people.
SPLASH! The alchemist was running from his underground laboratory after an unsuccessful attempt to invent a new potion. Some kind of green gas followed him as he climbed the ladder and ran towards the magician of the elder circle. About to ask for some help, he was.
A sigh. Another desperate sigh left my mouth and disappeared in the morning’s breeze. Why was I destined to foresee this? I was not a hero, even though sometimes the ability of mine - well, I daresay say the disability of mine - made me think that way.
The birds were flying just above my head as I was about to enter the Harbor district. A little kid rushed past me, chasing a colourful butterfly that was circling around. It seemed both the birds and the kid were aiming at the same target - but why didn’t they understand the purpose of life? Why didn’t they think that this poor butterfly had only one day to spend in this unwelcome world?
A cracking sound of old door opening reached my ears and awakened me. I turned to see the astonishing view of sky blue sea lit by the rising sun. Yet, I had this view disrupted as a man stood up in front of me, looking straight into my eyes. His bushy beard and long dirty hair gave off he was one of those unlucky people that weren’t spared by the destiny. A desperate demand for a single coin shone from inside. I knew that this coin would not turn the tide of what was about to happen and what I deemed to be the doom of everything I enjoyed so much. With a strange and desperate smile, I granted him the joy of buying himself a nice red apple, as well as some luxurious food for the remainder of the day.
“And may the god save your day!”
The beggar watched me with his puppy eyes, knowing not what to say to me - whether to thank me for my unexpected kindness or try to help me rid of my worries. This acquaintance made me realize that the inevitability made my heart ache even more, even though the shortcoming of money the poor man suffered from might have made him leave this world a lot earlier.
The armor I wore glimmered in the rays of sunlight - it was of no use, as my heart was already shattered into pieces. I smiled at the flickering rays of light, toying with my imagination. It was funny to see how the reflections of the sea waves reflected on my armor as well, making me look like a mythical elemental creature of some kind. All that was old was already lost and having the new lost before it could venture into the world was even more painful to a human like myself...
But why was I bothering my mind with such pessimistic thoughts, while I myself could be enjoying the life as much as most others? Yes, the doom may come soon, but what if I try to change it. What if I roll the dice of the fate again to see if the fate can be changed? The fate tricked me once, should I let it trick me twice and once again rip something nice off me?
I joined the beggar and asked the woman he called Bertha for another apple. The sound of apple being eaten made my stomach rumble and think I should eat something.
“Don’t degrade yourself by telling lies. Even if the lie may come true and is meant for you only!”
The words of wisdom from the mouth of the man reached me when I was about to swallow the last piece of the apple. I stopped and looked at the man. He was holding a bottle of ale and consequently took a sip from it, so as to preserve some for until the late period of the day. But his eyes reflected the experience of this man and that he had suffered more in his life than I did.
I turned my head from him, crouching nearby and untying my last gold sack from the belt. I silently gave it to him and left, without looking back at his facial expression.
Giving something to people is much more worthy than taking something from them. Another lesson was learnt today, but what was the point? My life was already torn to pieces and now with her gone, I could not find a shelter for myself anymore.
I was destined to see into the future, but the disability made my life complex and made me consider whether I want to live or not. The void, the unknown the dead step into did not attract me at all, but I was unhappy to know that my beloved had gone there.
Yes, do not judge me because of my actions. Sometimes I am too shy and shady, and will not give away the answer until the interested person gets angry. You might have as well suspected as much, as my words sound strange for everyone who hears what I am talking about and may remind of romance stories rich people read.
Keeping things secret was always something I was skilled at, but it was something I avoided all my life. Today I understood that some people understand the deepest secrets just by looking into your eyes and by making you do something you could never think of doing.
Thus, I got away into my thoughts and reached the sea. This was where nothing ever happened and could never happen. The stillness seemed to be even deadly sometimes, especially when you lived here. I watched people standing next to boats and galleys. The sighting was so casual that I could not help myself to keep from the drowsiness that was taking over.
The love of my life… How I hated myself at the moment for repeating this word time and time again, but I found the action inevitable. I was so indebted to her that her departure into the realm of lost souls made me sad when I remembered. Never did people think about the true powers controlling the world and the time. I understand that I should live on, but understanding that there is something people want to hide most of the time, even though it is always there, and I even mentioned it happening earlier, was crucial to me. The magic of the living was the so-called magic itself. I could not help myself but think how treacherous this word may be. The magic was always in existence, even though most thought of it as the greater power and others as the devastating and destructive. The magic was the life itself and the branches of magic of life could easily tear its bonds into pieces.
Such was the case I feared of. Such was the fate I foresaw. There were foul things marching on the soil of the earth and these foul creatures of the night caused this to happen. The necromancers as people called them or the puppeteers in the eyes of the mages. I feared that they may toy with the souls and that was exactly what was happening.
Oh, I feel foul myself right now. How come I am to tell you what happened before it was meant to actually happen? I make myself sound like a legendary hero of some kind. But then again, that was my case, my heroic love story, my memoirs…
The streets were getting filled with people, as I continued to doze off into my thoughts. I watched the dark disk besiege the sun as it was climbing the sky up to its zenith. The total eclipse. It all began!
“Look out!”
I reached for His shoulder as He entered the magical circle. She was nearing and I could sense her presence everywhere around. Her grim presence enchained my spirit and made my body shiver. The beggar was standing next to me in the shade of this foul darkness. But he was not a beggar at all - the man held a staff and now wore light robes.
“Never mind youngster. What was meant to happen will happen unless you defend us from it. May it be a sacrifice, but I myself, being more powerful than you magic-wise, am unable to defend the world from mental evil.”
The world lit up when I heard the soothing words. It was I who may bring the doom, but it was I who might turn the tide of the war. And I am sure the world will evade the doom.
The sky filled up with tumuli and a lightning bolt hit the sea, without the sound of upcoming thunder. A black wispy figure was nearing and I felt the fiery pain the figure was suffering from.
“Look out!”
I reached for His shoulder as He entered the magical circle. She was near and I could sense her presence everywhere around. Her grim presence enchained my spirit and made my body shiver. Again it was happening, but now, it was the very same happy boy standing next to me, which made me feel awkward some time ago.
The circle circled with fiery mist and flashed with blazing lightning bolts. It was my doom. I knew it. And if it wasn’t me who was to suffer, the whole world would succumb to this creature of darkness.
A wraith was standing in front of us three. The kid burst into tears and the wraith let out a howling cry.
Stop it!”
I felt disrupted as the cold humane blade touched the very tip of my heart and cut my shoulder. I saw the death itself grasping me and I finally saw the face of it - It was the one of my beloved.
“NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
She aimed at the kid and the moment was fatal. I jumped to meet her bony body with my warm humane flesh. The cold and the heat, the sun and the night met each other and my lips touched hers. It felt the same as when I first met her. The blade stung my body and the blood started dripping into the sea. The banshee stopped where it stood and her arms surrounded my back, holding it tightly. These gentle arms.
“You sacrificed yourself to help everyone.”
The abnormal voice echoed throughout. I could not understand if it was that of the child, the mage or my beloved girl.
“Not the love in your heart helped them, but the thirst for life.”
I felt awkward… The wounds were widening…
“The thirst for life is above all the rules the world created. By living, you create magic. By loving, you simply use the magic of creation. Despite this, you sacrifice your life in order to protect the very magic itself.”
The face of the wraith suddenly brightened and the shadows did as well. My heart was pierced with a blade, yet I felt no pain. The banshee in front suddenly changed its figure and where she stood, the corpse of my beloved appeared. However, it was different. As if, alive.
She stood up and I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her soft lips as if for the first time in my life. The moment was etched into my mind forever.
The mage disappeared and instead the very same beggar stood watching me with a grin.
“You finally understood the truth, my youngster. You have learnt the lesson, and now I may go where I please…”
“Yes, senior magician…”
“Have you not yet understood?”
“Yes, I have. But we are all magicians ourselves. Every breath we take is magical. Every word we whisper is as well. We are not merely humans with a freedom of choice. The world allowed us to choose power over life… Power of the magic itself… And it was not my doom,-“
“-that was destined to happen, yes, nor the one of the world. It was just the beginning of new understanding. The dawn of a new era… Now, let me rest in peace.”
I held my beloved in my hands, kissed her again, yet unable to believe what happened, and watched with a smile the wise beggar hold my bag of coins in his hands, already nearing the food stall…
“The magic of life…”
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God does not need exist to save us...
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Lady_Milena
Honorable
Known Hero
Grannie Sweet Cheeks
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posted June 30, 2006 11:00 AM |
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A new entry for your entertainment!
Generation S
Written by: Kookastar
No one saw me do it. The night air was thick with fog as I set the last explosive and moved quickly across the street to detonate it. I wasn’t trying to be a hero, but I was going to show them what I thought of their work, and of the government’s ingenious plan. I did not wait to watch the impact but instead turned my back to the flames and headed home.
It was only a couple of blocks to my flat, past decrepit buildings and houses with falling down fences, the stench of a dying suburban dream. Thankfully, most of the streetlights had been knocked out last weekend by my green-haired neighbours, their shouts of triumph competing with the sound of breaking glass. Bats danced above me as I ran, following their familiar path to the mango tree next-door, their screech masking the rattle of empty beer bottles as I straddled a bin and manoeuvred myself awkwardly onto my balcony.
I heard my father’s snore before I was even through the door, his deep grunts resonating throughout the house. Signalling for the TV to shut off, I moved down the hall to my bedroom, my sanctuary. Half naked women were bowing to me from my laptop indicating I had no messages, not surprising at that time of night. As dawn was only two hours away, I undressed, threw my clothes into a heavy-duty garbage bag, and jumped into bed. A shower could wait until morning.
Sleep evaded me. Lying there, my hands clutching a lumpy pillow beneath my cheek, I pressed my eyelids shut, willing the peace to wash over me. Instead the flickering shadows of moonlight penetrated through them, my mind beginning to replay last week's events again. The scent of the explosives still lingered on my arms, stinging my nostrils, and fuelling my anger.
Man. November was meant to be the beginning of my life. Sixteen at last. Freedom. I had watched all my friends and most of my enemies go through the rite of passage before me. My time had come, and gone again already. We were the first of our generation, branded Generation S by the powers that be, and implanted at birth with a microchip tracking device. We were Safe from sexual predators and our own youthful stupidity, at least that's what they said. In reality the satellite monitoring available to parents and authorities was a leash, a tight rope wrapped within our own flesh. Restricting, controlling, degrading. They were always there.
I laughed out loud as I remembered the apprehension I had felt on my birthday while I sat on the stiff leather chairs in the doctor’s surgery and waited. Stories of the agonising pain of extraction had been exaggerated far beyond what could ever have been considered plausible, but still… The pain, I discovered, was negligible compared with the feeling of sheer control and freedom that followed. The world seemed infinitely larger, even the stars seemed closer - I could almost reach out and touch them. I felt as though I could do anything. Be anything. That feeling would not last long.
November 6th 2024 was a day that would be etched in my mind forever. Just two days into my seventeenth year I awoke with a jump, and a smile. Penny’s daily wake up call was thundering from my laptop, her favourite part of day. I would never let her know it, but I dreaded the day she would stop. I had woken with a smile on my face everyday for the past six months because of it. Because of her. Today she had chosen a remix of an old Midnight Oil song and a photo of our weedy looking president riding a camel across the monitor. The horror! I quickly erased the image from the screen, but it would take some time to get it out of my head. I had exactly twenty minutes to get ready for school before she would be on my doorstep.
I dressed quickly and began to pack my bag for school. Papers were strewn across the desk - makings of homework. I picked them up and slid them in the side pocket next to my computer. Just breakfast and lunch to go and I would be on my way. Dad had left for work an hour ago, and as was the ritual he had left coffee in the percolator and bread perched in the toaster ready for me. I pressed it down. It bounced back up. I pressed it down again. It again bounced up. The power switch wasn’t on. I pressed it down and this time it stayed. Opening the fridge door I thanked the little man for turning on the light, and then surveyed the contents. Ah… an apple and some leftover cheesy pasta stuff, the rest I would pick up from the shop.
Locking the door behind me I stepped out into the street and waited. It wasn’t often that I beat Penny, but since the chip was gone I just seemed to be more motivated to do things, rekindling a desire to go places. I looked at my watch and figured I had about 30 seconds until I would see her. I quickly ruffled up my hair, and wondered if she would be wearing that new sports skirt she got last week. She had lost a bit of weight and the way it sat on her butt and swung gently across her mid thigh as she walked was poetry in motion. I was not disappointed. Man. I swung my bag in front of me as she approached, laughing. She laughed a lot, at first I wondered if she was on drugs, but no, she just had some weird kind of energy that enabled her to see everything in a different way. It was infectious.
“You’re early today baby, I knew the president would do it for you!”
“President? Oh yeah, thanks.” I knew what would do it for me and it wasn’t that dweeb, or the camel either.
The rest of the walk to school was a blur; I can remember her scent and the way the breeze played with her hair, but not the conversation. Just the usual blah I suppose. What I do remember is arriving at school and seeing some weird-ass vans parked out the front. They were white, and had no windows. The logo on the side looked like some kind of medical business, but we really couldn’t figure it out. And I was more worried about sorting through those papers and getting some kind of submission organised for my Art Assignment that was due after lunch. I needn’t have bothered.
After roll marking, the teacher told us that we were to go to a special assembly. It was Mrs Murr (yes we pronounced it the same way a cow pronounces “get stuffed you farmer”) so it was always hard to get any kind of information out of her. She wore the most benign clothes, and took her job way too seriously. This of course resulted in an instant competition to see who could come up with the most incredible story as to what the assembly was about. Most of them concerned death, maiming, or someone donating a zillion dollars. Murr just stood shaking her head. No help at all.
We piled into the hall, I was thankful for missing Maths – we were still doing probability. I wanted to tell Mr Pincher to have us work out things that really mattered, like the probability that we would get laid by the end of the week, or that Ms Brimm’s hair was actually a wig, or that we would spend the rest of our lives working in a dead end job like teaching. But I didn’t, it was all in the textbook, it was easier that way. I swear he knew which page each question was on, memorised after forty years of repetition. Anyway, no Maths today, and no debate from the American exchange student as to whether that s should really be there either (thank ICTC for that). I mean the guy was good for a laugh, but we all have our shortcomings I guess.
Walking into the assembly hall was like entering an episode of CSI, looking closely at the curves of the lab-chicks it was more like CSI Miami. Tables were lined up against the stage and on them were test tubes and cotton buds, arranged in neat rows like soldiers marching to battle. Now we were really wondering what the hell was going on. It was an eerie silence, one thousand teenagers in a room and not a word. We sat and waited for some important looking people to tell us what was happening.
Seven speakers later, two things were clear. We were not graduating from this High School, and any plans for our future careers could be discarded. They tried to make it sound like a good thing. Not having to compete against each other for university places, no uncertainty as to what we should do with our lives. “Scientific Advancement” they said. “Leading the world in genetic screening techniques” we were. For years the media had been reporting stories on current affairs shows of labs where you could get your genes tested for career advice, but most people thought this was about as useful as reading your horoscope, or asking your grandma. At least that’s what we thought. Until now. Man, Generation Sucked in.
They spoke to us like we had no idea about what was going on in the world, or what the government did. They teach us this crap in school and yet they still think we are ignorant. The ‘war that we had to have’ had been going for the past thirty years, and money was running out. So were soldiers. There had been elections won and lost on the basis of conscription. We weren’t stupid. We might go to public school but we weren’t morons. It was all about money. The genetic screening was to decide our careers for us, they weren’t going to pay for us to be educated just to wind up cleaners. The rest of the education institutions would be a network of specialised colleges, providing information to students “specific to their employment needs”. Bah.
You could have cut the air in there with a feather. Shock had set in and all we wanted to do was escape. It was hot and the government still hadn’t forked out to air-condition the stinking school. And I mean stinking, the stress seemed to activate some gland in our bodies and the odours of adolescence were being pumped out like exhaust smoke from an old EJ Wagon. Bad. This in turn seemed to trigger our vocal cords, and soon a murmur of four letter words rose within the hall, even the most articulated students were unable to think of much else to say. It didn’t change anything. Like drones we were lined up and swabbed for DNA, the slight discomfort nothing compared to how we were feeling inside. None of us could understand why this was happening, it was just [a four letter word]ed.
That night I sat with my father on the lounge and watched the news. I never did this, I hate the news. It is always the same thing; war, crimes, some cutesy story of a kid or animal being found or cute, sport, and weather. I still don’t understand the point of the weather forecasts; I mean, look out the damn window. They’re never right anyway, I guess it gives old people something to talk about. The weather that is; not only can they talk about the weather, but what was forecast, compare the difference and then make predictions as to whether the weatherman will have gotten it right by the end of the day. Like I said they never do, unless they go for the good old “fine with possible rain”. Damn I hate the news. Tonight though I sat through it because I had seen television cameras outside the school on my way home and thought that I might find out something else, or at least catch a glimpse of Penny and that skirt. I had no luck on either account.
And the whole damn time I was sitting there, seeing all the bad things happening to people I was getting angrier and angrier. I was watching the broadcast from the war and I was getting sicker and sicker. I made up my mind then that I needed to teach these ‘people’ a lesson. I would destroy our samples, the media would be all over it, and they would have all their work destroyed. Just like I had spent my whole life at school working towards something, and now they were destroying it. Removing the chip, they had restored my Freedom, a freedom that they took for granted in their youth, the freedom to take a crap without your father knowing it for ICTC’s sake. And now they were telling me that my genes were going to decide what I could do, regardless of how hard I had worked to bring my crappy C’s up to crappy B’s. Well I was part of Generation Suck on this.
The sun was beginning to rise; I could see the rays coming in through the window and smell the explosives emanating from my arms once more. Well I did show them. Realising I wasn’t going to get any sleep I got out of bed just as dad’s alarm went off. He walked past me and into the kitchen, giving me a strange look but saying nothing as I headed for the shower. I was surprised that the sirens of the fire engines hadn’t woken him earlier. Turning on the hot water I waited until the steam was rising before I hopped in. I knew I shouldn’t waste water that way, but I needed the water so hot that it was almost unbearable. I scrubbed my body, and washed my hair, and the spray was not only cleansing my body but my mind as well. Massaging my scalp, my face, all over, and releasing the tension that had been forming a tight knot in my neck. Feeling better I returned to my bedroom, got dressed in my school clothes and lay on my bed, waiting for Penny. I really needed to see her this morning, and I still had two hours to wait. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember is the sound of Treysh and the sight of dancing zombies. That must have taken her ages.
I stayed there watching the zombies dance and thought about last night. Wondering if I would ever be able to tell her that it was me. Wondering if I was proud or ashamed of what I had done. Wondering why all I seemed to do lately was wonder about everything. This got me out of bed just in time to hear Penny’s voice blaring from my laptop, “ETA one minute.” Man I had been lying there a while. There was no time for toast, I grabbed the bread, and the garbage bag and headed out the front. Throwing the bag in the wheelie bin, and the bread down my throat, I pushed the bin out to the curb for collection. Only half an hour and those clothes would be long gone. I still didn’t see the point in finishing off the last two weeks at school, but we were told we had to keep attending, and Penny was there. And Penny was there.
Kicking the toe of my shoe against the cement gutter I waited for her. I didn’t have to wait long before her smile once again revived me, dispelling my inner torment, and calming me. I didn’t think I would ever tell her about the explosives, but I was curious to see what the reaction would be at school. The walk there was fairly light-hearted as Penny, whether I liked it or not, recited a poem that she had written for an English assignment. Twice. The second time with even more emotional waving of hands and inflection of tone. I must be infatuated, a sane person would have been driven crazy, but all I could see were her tiny freckles, and the way my own face was reflected in her eyes.
We entered the school gate and could feel the buzz. There was a distorted sense of pleasure in the air, the place alive once more as first class gossip was circulated. I hadn’t seen guys this excited since that swimsuit promotion last year. Wide-eyed and bursting with words, Penny’s friend came rushing towards us, “Have you heard about the bomb?” For the next twenty minutes we heard countless stories of an attack on the genetic screening facility we had toured as a class only days before. The culprits varied depending on who you talked to. The most popular seemed to be equal opportunity protesters, fundamental religious groups, or terrorists from the Middle East. The most interesting explanation of events came from the school Principal.
An assembly had been called before the start of school to set the record straight and to tone down the gossip which had been causing some of the students to speculate about the end of the world again. The principal’s address was brief, as was her skirt. There had been an accident at the government labs last night which had led to a fire. The damage would take some time to repair, but none of our results had been lost and the details of our career placement would be available online within the hour. What a load of crap. I could not believe what I was hearing. There was no way our DNA had been left intact. What did they do, make it up?
It was hard to disguise the look of horror that must have been oozing from every muscle of my being, yet somehow I managed to look no more on edge than my friends as we went online to view our results. I scrolled down the page to find my name. J.B.Enderson: Army Cadet.
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God does not need exist to save us...
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