Creative Writing Assignment 2
The assignment: Use several literary techniques that were discussed in class to write a 500-700 word story. You'll have to take it on faith that I did. =P Once again, this won't be graded and critique from any of you guys would be cool.
“Men! You shall not falter! Listen well! We are the elite knights of the Weiss Ritter, and we shall protect the king today with our very lives! It is for this purpose, this reason, this moment alone that we have lived. Do our nation proud! Show these fools your might! 2nd cavalry, charge!”
It was as if time slowed to a crawl. As the stallion reared back and pounded the air with its hooves, I knew the image would be forever engraved within my mind. The knight atop his mighty steed. I found out later that he was only a captain; all of his superiors had perished in war. Nonetheless, he was glorious. The sweat gleamed off his face as he brandished his sword, raising it high into the air as if the blade could pierce the very heavens themselves. The light of war shone fiercely in his eyes, a fever that overcame all sensibility such that he looked more primal beast than man. There was no more need for words. So he roared. And as one, each of his knights cried out as they unsheathed their blades and charged.
At that moment, I truly believed that the miracle could occur. But it was not to be.
Soon after, I learned that they had charged to near certain death, nothing more than pawns to be used as pieces in a game. The last of the Weiss Ritter had been sent to distract the cavalry of the opposing army that the foot soldiers could carefully advance undetected towards the main encampment of the enemy. The opposing knights were fresh. None had yet been deployed, none were yet fatigued by the tiresome battles that seemed as if they would have no end. The 2nd cavalry was decimated nearly instantly, not even knowing if their sacrifice held any worth at all. Only two returned to tell the tale. Heroes by virtue of survival.
All I could think of then were the two plans. Two desperate plans that would be deemed mad by any competent tactician. But there was no other choice. The first: advance all foot soldiers towards the enemy encampment. Destroy the supplies. Incinerate the tents. Extinguish any chance of survival within the harsh, checkered plains that we called our home. The second: assassinate the king. Terrible though he was, King Schwarz was no coward. He engaged in every battle his black-hearted soldiers fought, declaring that he would not be worthy of his throne if he did not partake of the same hardships and dangers as his men. His attitude was grudgingly admired. Under any other circumstances, taking Schwarz would have been impossible. His personal defender was hailed as the greatest warrior of the land, never allowing even a scratch to fall upon his majesty. It was whispered, at times, that they shared even the same bed, and thus, in mocking contempt, we knew him as the Queen. But there was an opening. He had been disabled earlier in a stray shot by a runner, an unbelievable stroke of luck. If ever there was a chance, it was now.
In the end, it did no good. The soldiers were caught, executed. The knights routed, the siege towers fallen, the runners destroyed. Then . . .
“Checkmate.” Holding the ebony black piece in his hand, he landed it with a triumphant expression on his face. “And that makes . . . sixteen and zip. You want to play something else? I’m getting pretty sick of beating you. . . . Hello? Ben? Ben? Snap outta it, kid. You gotta stop zoning out like that. That’s why you keep losing ; you’re always off in your own little world.”
“His kingdom. His crown. His throne. Yet for the sake of his people . . . he surrendered .”
“Yeah, sure. Now help me clean up this board.”