Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Whiskey-plied voices cried, "Fratricide!"

From the song "Fake Palindromes"

Fair’s Fair

Armed with pitchforks and axes, Bramford’s menfolk raced up the mountainside to rid their town of the menacing beast, each ready to do his part—once they’d agreed to divide up equally any loot the monster left behind.

They found the demon asleep and fell upon it. Their work was bloody but quick.

Behind the vanquished beast they saw no jewels, no gold. Instead, a maiden, unconscious, lay amidst a pile of bones.

The men began to grumble. “What about our agreement?” someone yelled. Old Sal, their leader, sighed. With a shrug, he removed the hunting knife from his belt.

Elizabeth's story


Elizabeth said...

Very, very Ayn. I like it.

Ayn said...

Should I ever be worried that my good friends read something like this and say it "very, very" me? =p

The only thing I don't really like about this piece is all the commas, especially toward the end...but they're there standing in place of words. The story started out a lot longer, and while I was trimming it down I thought I might go back and expand it into a longer piece, but I don't really think the material's there. A few more words would have been helpful, but it wouldn't change much.