15 Stories for 15 Days: Day Fifteen (My final one for the contest!)

The 15 for 15 contest is held about once every nine months or so. The way it works is that every day at 8:30 WDC time, a picture prompt is posted. You have 24 hours to post your story that the prompt inspires. Here is the interesting part: You only have 15 minutes to write your story. You can think about it all day but once you start writing, 15 minutes is what you get.

ID: 994771   (Rated: 18+) 15 for 15 Contest   Do you have 15 minutes? Come in and join this contest! by Legerdemain (222)

The contest is limited to 50 competitors. Each day, there are 5 winners. First place will get 1004 points, second place will get 1003 points etc. The person with the most total points at the end of the 15 day contest is the winner.

The prompt for this story is the following picture:

My Entry

The knight dropped to his knees.

He didn’t need to check the wound in his side to know he was done.

It had been such a glorious battle. Time after time, the two lines had clashed. Swords flashed and blood flowed, both with an abundance that would be sung about for years to come.

Bards from each side walked amidst the active carnage; missing nothing. They were the history keepers, and as such, were outside the battle. To touch one would bring shame. The Bards penned of heroes and cowards. They recorded last words and battle cries. All they observed became part of recorded history. Some would be written while parts would be passed down in the form of poems and songs.

The battle was done. Neither side could claim victory since both had suffered near complete destruction.

Now miles from the battlefield, the knight raised his head with an effort. As he looked out over the ocean he reflected back on the previous day.

The roar of battle had tapered off until an eerie silence took hold. Only the smoke, mixing with the morning fog disturbed the air. . He’d looked for the next fight but saw only the bard; not a single warrior remained. A whistle called his mount from where he’d left it in the forest.

It had been a struggle, but he gained the saddle. He gave the horse its head and it had taken him here; to a deserted beach.

A good place to die, thought the knight.

His horse had chosen well.

With great effort, he rose and stripped the stead of its saddle. He unsheathed his sword one final time and a swat sent his four-legged companion on his way.

As for the knight…he dropped to his knees, swayed for a moment and then went on his way as well.

A respectful distance away, the bard noted the event.

The final stanza done; all that remained was the telling of the tale.