Today is Wednesday, & since I usually post a story or something of that nature, (& I didn't feel like writing one today), I scoured my computer for something I could post today.
So, this little excerpt is the answer to a flash fiction prompt that I did in my Senior year writing class. The prompt was to re-write a scene from one of our stories from the perspective of a different character. The scene is from the novel that I am currently in the middle of editing. Maybe one of these days, I'll share that story but for now, here's the siege of the castle from Dale's perspective.
"The Siege of the Castle"
He stared in disbelief at the scene behind him. Dark, ominous smoke rose from the castle. The girls hurried on before him, but something drew him to continue glancing back at the destruction. He knew that his father was there, perhaps fighting for his life, perhaps already lying dead. He fought the tears back, not wanting to cry in front of the girls, but they fell unbidden.
As the siege of the castle continued, he knew it was important that he get as far away as he could. He wanted to live another day. He wanted to live many more days. He wanted to avenge his father’s death. He knew that it was inevitable that his father should die; he was one of the few men that had stayed behind to attempt to stem the oncoming tide of enemies.
He glanced ahead at the girls he was supposed to protect. The oldest looked back at him, tears streaming down her face. Her mother was back there too. He turned again in his saddle to watch the billowing smoke. Who were they to have such noble parents? Parents that would sacrifice themselves so that their children could escape.
Yes, he thought to himself. He wanted to live. He was going to avenge his father, and the girl’s mother. He was going to live, that their sacrifices would not be in vain. He spurred his mount onward, urging the rest of the company to do the same. It was imperative that they reach the safety of the mountain hideout.
Anger at the traitorous nobles and their army swelled within him. It took everything in him to continue moving forward when his soul was begging him to go back. He knew that for the time being he had to accept the hideous facts. His father, the girls’ mother, hundreds of good men and soldiers were dead…and they were alive.
They were alive to fight another day. There would be another battle. Another time, another place. Only that battle would be different. They, the enemy of the country, would not win. He would win. He would crush them, as they were now crushing his father and the rest of the men.
He rode onward, pausing for one last look at the destruction. He sat his horse, silhouetted black against the red orange sky. He spoke three simple words, three words that would remain with him for the rest of his life, driving him. “They will pay.”
With that, he disappeared over the hill, losing sight of the terrible castle onslaught forever.