Thank you for reading and sharing my daily #Storygram short stories! Be sure to subscribe to the Newsletter and check out my film Portfolio!

The Story:

The stacked stones that refused to fall greet me at the site of my most powerful memory. The trees have laid siege to it. The animals nest in its crevices. I touch the remains of my earliest home and feel that it is dead. But even though I was so young, I can still remember it when it was alive.

When the army of the Telax broke through our gates, I was six years old. The first thing they did inside our walls was pull my father down from his horse. I watched as they mutilated his body, not even giving him the dignity of a dying breath, a final say.

They barreled on through our home, ransacking the castle and ravishing the women. I was heartbroken, but I wasn’t afraid until I saw them slaying the children in their path. Few enemies were so cruel as to destroy the women and children.

One of them screamed a horrible battle cry and charged me with his spear. I relive that moment in my dreams every night, still petrified, awaiting my death. Just before the spear pierced my heart, my mother appeared with a sword, slicing the spear in half and slaying my attacker. She grabbed me and made a run for one of our secret passageways.

Our effort to escape was thwarted at the passageway’s entrance by an arrow that found its way into my mother’s back. Another arrow entered my leg, which is why I limp to this day. I feel its burn again whenever the winters tighten up my leg.

Mother collapsed and told me to run, but I wouldn’t. I would have perished, unable to leave my her side, had it not been for our cook and his wife pulling me into the passageways. As they ran with me in their arms, the sound of battle faded and left only the sounds of our feet and our heavy breathing. And I fell into a deep sleep.

The cook and his wife raised me. They own a bakery in a neighboring city, and I love them as my own parents.

Yet, I haven’t forgotten what happened to my family. The Telax don’t know it, but I’m coming for them. Like a whirlwind’s fury, I am coming.

 

Think this story should become a book or a short film? Let me know in the comments below!

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This