This is a #storygram (mini-stories) from my Instagram, which you can get to via the social media links at the top of this site. I do my best to make them a daily thing for you to enjoy and share with your friends! I really love making them, and YES, many of them will hopefully be expounded upon in novels or other future writing endeavors of mine. Thank you very much for reading and sharing them! Don’t forget to check out my film Portfolio too!
The Story:
The music of dancing piccolo players poured over the castle walls. People laughed and gossiped as they shuffled from bread stands to apple stands to potato stands at the market.
Everyone loved the king because he had brought peace and prosperity to his people. But I hated him.
They saw him as the perfect king, who loved his subjects. I saw him as the man whose conquests left my city with thousands of dead men.
He was known for his commitment to one wife–a family king with no children. I knew him as the adulterer that imprisoned my mother and left me a bastard orphan to hide his sin.
No king wants a bad reputation, of course, but I was no king. Over time I developed a reputation for myself. He didn’t know I was his son, but he knew my name. He didn’t know my face, but he would know it today.
My iron black hair and my silvery metal fist for a left hand were how the peasants knew me. As soon as I walked across the drawbridge and through the gate, everyone froze.
All I had to do was walk, and they parted like the Red Sea. A peasant woman spoke:
“Please! Please, don’t take our king!”
The crowd wound up to an uproar as everyone began shouting the same sentiment. But they didn’t truly know the man they defended.
“Please, Mr. Kit! Please, spare our king!”
Their shouts began to awaken my famous anger. I couldn’t listen to this ignorant defense any longer.
“You all know how I lost this hand!”
They all listened.
“But none of you know why I was an orphan, forced to steal food to survive. I’m going to let your king tell you that story today!”
I grabbed an apple from a nearby stand, tossing the owner a coin. The entire town followed me as I made my way to the inner wall’s gate. I waited until I had finished my apple. He had to be watching me from somewhere by now.
“King Bruling, show yourself! I am King Killer Kit, and I demand a hearing!”
No response.
“Very well. Maybe you’ll open up if your people demand it?”
I turned to face the crowd.
“Everyone, gather around! I’m going to tell all of you a story. Then, when I am finished, I’ll let you decide if you want to keep your king.”