Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PROMISE (09/02/21)
-
TITLE: Fight for your Family? | Previous Challenge Entry
By Samuel Kane
09/08/21 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Ruthi, her ginger pigtails swinging gracefully, took hold of Shamran’s hand. She giggled excitedly as her father pulled her into a warm and tight embrace.
Shamran had sworn her to secrecy after she walked into his workshop and found him fashioning an intricate sculpture as a gift for her mother. It would not have seemed a particularly significant moment to any onlooker yet little Ruthi, barely five years old, was dead serious. Her father was trusting her with something and she would not let him down. A promise was a promise.
Months passed and Shamran worked tirelessly at his anvil. Every strike of the hammer brought images flashing before his eyes: the gleam of the blade, the cries of his comrades, the stench of the horse as it lay on top of him, the pools of blood oozing from his body. That day still plagued his mind, eager to finally take what had been denied it, all those years ago. He lived on and yet a part of him had died on that battlefield.
Shamran laid down his hammer as he breathed in the sweet aroma of the meal his wife was preparing. Ironically, that terrible day had also brought him great joy.
He’d awoken on soft linen, his brow and chest cocooned in fresh bandages and his leg held firmly in a cast. His eyelids slowly parted to the sight of true beauty gazing down upon him, with compassionate concern in her eyes. Her raven hair cascaded gloriously down her back and her radiant laugh transcended even the heavens as he made some witty remark about his ailments. As the weeks passed and he slowly recovered, he grew to love her inner beauty and wonderful personality. Gradually, that friendship developed into a courtship, and they were wed the following year.
Fiha was the love of his life, and he would never do her wrong. That’s one promise that nothing could make him break.
Fiha set her kitchen knife down when she heard her husband returning from the market. Ruthi stood excitedly, arms flung wide to swallow him in a hug. The door opened and in walked Shamran… with guests.
Four strangers, bearing weapons and equipped for a long journey, followed the blacksmith into his home. They took their seats at the table and guzzled down all that Fiha placed before them, chatting, mid-mouthful, about some invading army raiding the nearby villages.
Shamran took his wife aside and pulled her in for a gentle kiss and a warm embrace. The two stood there silently for a moment, basking in each other’s presence. Eventually, Fiha spoke.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“I, I have to. If those rumours are true, if whole villages are being burned to the ground, I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”
“But,” tears began to well up in her eyes, “you left the army for a reason. I can’t see you like that again, bloody and broken and… Shamran you promised.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I have to do this. If this force gets to the city, there will be no stopping them. This is the only way to keep you safe.”
Ruthi’s voice sounded behind them.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?”
Shamran picked up his daughter, holding her in his arms.
“Daddy has to go away for a little while. There are some very nasty men who want to hurt a lot of people, and I’m going to get them to leave us alone.” He smiled sweetly, giving her a quick peck on the forehead.
The light in Ruthi’s eyes faded, but her mother had always taught her to remain brave even when she felt sad.
“Promise me you’ll come back home safe, Daddy.”
“I will.”
“Pinkie promise?”
Shamran reached out his hand, extending his finger for his daughter to grasp.
An arrow whistled through the air, embedding itself in Shamran’s knee. He collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony. A marauder brought their sword plummeting towards him. It was like time slowed in that moment and a sweet voice filled his mind.
“Promise me you’ll come back home safe, Daddy.”
Was this what it all came to? Was this his legacy? Would he be known as someone who died protecting his family? But how could he protect them if he gave in, falling on this battlefield?
Defiantly, he raised his halberd above his head, blocking the blow.
He had to keep going. A promise was a promise.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.
I was a bit confused about the MC falling to a floor after being hit by the arrow, and shortly afterwords referring to a battlefield.
With the word limit, it is not easy to expend words transitioning location, but some sort of symbolic divider, perhaps a few asterisks, could have indicated that he had actually left home. Before rereading, I thought he might have hit the floor in his own home somehow.
Those are small details, though, and did not detract from the overall enjoyment of your vivid tale.
Did I mention that I would love to know how it all turned out, and how his wife reacted to his special gift? :)
We do not use halberds anymore.
.