fiction · Writing

The Duke, the Princess, and the Biscuits

The duke was worn out. All this walking was exhausting. He sat on a park bench while his companions went down the hill looking for a shop to purchase some food.

A young woman passed him and sat down at the picnic table across the dirt path. She pulled from her bag a biscuit which she began to eat.

The duke called over to her, “Give me a biscuit.”

He offered no pleasantries, no polite greeting, no polite asking, just ‘give me’.

Her head jerked up. She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Finally she said, “How is it that you, a man unknown to me and of a different people, ask me for a biscuit?”

He smiled at her. At that instant he knew exactly who she was, a disgraced princess from a neighboring kingdom. He replied, “If you knew the person asking you for a biscuit, you would have asked him instead for something you need desperately, because he has the means to give you what you need most.”

The pauses in their conversation were long and palpable. She studied his face, his clothing, his dusty shoes. Finally she spoke again, “Sir, I can see that you have nothing. You are alone. Do you have something more than the baker in the town who gave me these biscuits?”

“When you eat a biscuit,” he replied, “it sustains for a time. You have other needs as well. What I have is a forever resource.”

“Okay,” she replied, “I’ll take the bait. Give me some of whatever it is you have.”

“Call your husband and come back to me,” he said.

“I don’t have a husband,” she answered.

His mouth curved into a slight smile as he chuckled. “I know that. You have struggled in that area of your life. You’ve left your husband and the man you are with now is not your husband.”

Her eyes widened. She had been found out. She couldn’t identify the flurry of feelings causing her heart to race. Was it panic? Happiness at no longer having to hide? Fear of consequences?

“I am the Duke,” he said. “I know your whole story. Words of accusation on a sheet of paper only tell a small part of who you are. I will keep you safe.”


This is my response to today’s MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie & #Wordle where the challenge is to weave a bunch of prompt words into a post. Today’s words are: biscuit, passed, duke, found, slight, princess, curved, sheet, alone, downhill, happy, companion.

Some Bible stories haunt me. I’ve spent years thinking about the man who tells Jesus, “Sir, I have no one,” in response to Jesus asking him if he wants to be healed. (John 5)

Lately the woman at the well has been haunting my thoughts. (John 4) This is a (sort-of) retelling of that story.

fiction · nonsense · Writing

None of this is true

“There was this huge monkey, I tell you, HUGE,” said the old man. His rough unshaven face, the bit of spittle leaking down the left side of his mouth, the crust in the corners of his eyes all spoke of age and hardship.

The young man was busy writing. He glanced up at the old man as if giving him permission to continue.

“The monkey was in the back of the trailer. It had a shit-eatin’ grin on its face and a shovel in its hand,” the man continued, balling up his right fist as if demonstrating how the monkey held the shovel.

The young man continued to write.

“I was feared it was goin’ to grab the cash. Y’know, the cash was just sittin’ right out there by the birthday cake,” said the man, pointing to an imaginary table with a cake and cash.

The young man put his pen down and looked at the older man. “Mr. Smith,” he started to say, but the old man interrupted him.

“That damn monkey was gonna carry away MY birthday cash, MY birthday cake!” he shouted. “It was TOO MUCH!

He tried to get out of his chair, but the restraining belt held him in place. He struggled, his hands gripping and pressing against the arm of the chair.

His exertions were loud and drew attention from the others in the room. They had all been mildly watching the morning news on the communal television, and he was now far more interesting than that.

“Mr. Smith,” the young man said again, “it’s time for your meds.” He took out a hypodermic needle and called over his shoulder, “Nurse, I might need a little help today.”


This is my response to the Monday Wordle where we are invited to use a specific list of words in prose or poetry.

Today’s list: cash, huge, monkey, much, grin, shovel, birthday, carry, took, back, trailer, grab

I read the list. I saw the story. I wrote it down.

fiction

A Fractured Fairy Tale

1Once upon a time there was a king who had a magic mirror that spoke only the truth.

2Every day, he would stand in front of the magic mirror and say,
“Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who’s the richest king of all.”

3Every day, the mirror would respond,
“Oh mighty king, you know your brand —
you are richest in the land.”

4One day, the king, after hearing a story about a king named Midas, changed his question and asked,
“Mirror, mirror, may I be bold
and ask who has the mostest gold?”

5The mirror responded,
“Your riches lie in resources many,
but Midas has gold more plenty.”

6The king frowned because this was not the answer he wanted to hear and he demanded that mirror grant him some magic so that he could have more gold than Midas.

7When he woke up the next morning, he reached over to shut off the alarm clock and it turned to gold when he touched it — in fact, everything he touched turned immediately to gold, including all the clothes in his closet when he went to get dressed.

8So he said to the mirror,
“Mirror, mirror, tell me true,
what I am supposed to do?
I have no clothes and a parade to march in.
Is there something you can put some starch in?”

9The mirror, for the first time in her existence, told a little white lie,
“Oh king, it’s not what you suppose —
When I look at you, I see fine clothes.
March in what you now are wearing —
People will cheer as they are staring.”


This is my response to The Writer’s Workshop Prompt: Write a post in exactly 9 sentences. Clearly, I have trouble counting. Forgive me.

Also, there needs to be a final line. What do you suggest?