Tell A Story

I wrote this piece for Speech class.  The assignment was to tell a story.  There was a three minute time limit, I believe, so I had to keep it short.  We were required to have some sort of moral or lesson, hence the final line.  As I was returning to my seat, the guy next to me said, “You had a messed up childhood, didn’t you?”

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Imagine, if you will, a palace chamber, a throne room.  Magnificent in its size, glorious in its opulence, ancient beyond all reckoning.  Huge columns of carved stone stretch to the ceiling above, accented in gold filigree.  Statues line each side of the chamber, the lineage of kings passed down through the ages.  At the end, the royal dais.  Steps carved out of one massive slab, and at the top, the throne.  Once, it was truly regal, a thing of beauty, a seat of power.  Now, it’s crushed beneath a monster.

The demon is huge.  A hulking monstrosity, utterly unnatural, he is muscular, winged, a disturbing grayish color.  Horns rise out of his forehead and his eyes glow red.  He looks bored.

The adventurers who have burst into the chamber, our heroes, stop dead in their tracks, stunned at the sight before them.  This is not what they were expecting.

The demon rises, towering above the group.  The massive royal chamber seems small now, no more than a child’s playhouse.  As he stands, he picks up the sword lying next to him.  It is a wicked thing, bent at odd angles, dark metal gleaming.  It is a cruel, black lightning bolt, borne of an unearthly forge.

“It’s about time someone was sent,” he says.  “I’ve been kept waiting far too long.”

The paladin, the holy warrior, dedicated to all that is good and right in the world, speaks first.

“I know you,” he says.  “Which of your many names do you go by now?”

“That doesn’t matter.  All that matters is that you are here to challenge me, and I accept.”  He raises his sword menacingly.

Evil like this cannot be allowed to exist in the world.  For the paladin, fleeing would violate everything he has lived his life for.  Before anyone can react, he charges the beast.

The demon strikes.  The paladin is run through.  He doesn’t even reach the dais.

The cleric, a priest dedicated to healing and protection, cries out.  Unthinking, she races towards the paladin, towards her love, hoping to save him.  She doesn’t make it.

The demon swats her away like a bug, and she flies across the room and slams against a wall.  She slumps to the ground, no longer breathing.

The sorceress begins chanting an incantation, but is quickly silenced by a piece of masonry flung at her.

A man, if but barely, stands trembling, now alone.  He has not moved, his wits gone, replaced with sheer terror.  The demon strides towards him.  Two, three steps and now he’s grabbing the man’s head, picking him up, staring him in the eye. 

“Leave me.  If you survive, tell your masters they have one more chance.”  He flings the man out the chamber entrance and returns to the dais to wait.

The point?  The good guys don’t always win.