It’s Day 29 of this self-imposed 30-day writing challenge. I’m having so much fun writing this story (Working Title: “Charlie Weaver and the Magical Object of Doom”), that I’m going to continue writing it as long as I can. At least through the end of November.
I’m going to back off from Charlie Weaver and the telepathic “Yoda” cows to return to Shivani, Charlie and the dwarf attack. I think this story needs a prophecy, so here goes (starting with a few lines from Day 26):
“Oh, my God,” Shivani said, clenching her hands into fists. “What on Earth is the point of this committee?”
“This isn’t Earth, dear,” Professor Pedantic said gently. “You’re in Bharat. Poor thing. Do you need Miss Prissy’s smelling salts?”
Shivani scowled at Professor Pedantic. Before she could reply, we heard a loud cry. “AAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!!!!!”
Shivani and I whirled around. We looked out the window just in time to see a dwarf flying through the air towards the castle. Both of us gasped as he slammed into the wall. Director Fussybottom quickly approached the window. We watched the dwarf slide down the wall into the moat.
“Heavens,” exclaimed Mistress Prissy Pants, placing one pudgy hand on her ample bosom. “What was that?”
“The dwarves have some sort of contraption,” Director Fussybottom muttered, as he stared out the window. Swarms of dwarfs were pushing a large wooden platform with wheels on it. A small dwarf scrambled into something that looked like a scoop.
Shivani expelled a snort of disgust. “It’s a catapult. Don’t you people know anything?”
“Catapult?” I said, bracing myself for her reply. Shivani always tossed out these strange terms from her realm. Sometimes, I had a feeling that she thought we were stupid for not understanding them.
“That poor little dwarf,” Shivani muttered, leaning halfway out the window. “I hope he’s okay.”
Three dwarves jumped into the moat and dragged the unconscious one onto land. One large dwarf scowled up at us from the other side of the moat. When he saw us watching him from the tower window, he shook his fist and yelled something at us. But we couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“A dwarf hit the wall,” Professor Pedantic repeated. His ruddy cheeks turned pale as exchanged glances with Director Fussybottom. “You know what this means, right?”
“Oh, no,” Mistress Prissy Pants whispered. Her eyes widened. “The prophecy?”
“Prophecy?” Shivani repeated, as she returned to the table. She crossed her arms and snickered. “Well, this should be good.”
“What prophecy?” I asked with trepidation. My body tensed. Prophecies always meant trouble for heroes like myself.
“No,” Director Fussybottom shook his head. “It can’t be.”
“But it makes sense,” Professor Serenity replied. Her face suddenly looked weary. “I hate to admit it, but Pedantic may be right.”
The walls of the tower shook as another dwarf slammed into the castle wall. Their aim was getting better.
“Oh, dear,” Miss Prissy wailed. Her lower lip began to quiver again. “Loud noises wreak havoc on my nerves. I may have to lie down if this doesn’t stop soon.”
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on? What prophecy?” Shivani demanded.
Director Fussybottom sighed and walked over to his large desk at the opposite end of the room. He opened the top drawer and pulled out something before walking back to us at the table. As we stood up and gathered around him, he unrolled a scroll. A very old, faded, dusty scroll of yellow parchment paper. He read the words out loud:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
This is a prophecy
So it must be true
There were murmurs of agreement. This prophecy was filled with wisdom. I didn’t want to miss a single word, so I focused all of my attention on the crumpled piece of paper as Fussybottom continued.
Beware of the dwarf
When it first hits the wall
It’s a sign of life changes
For one and for all
“Heavens,” Miss Prissy gasped, reaching for her smelling salts. She opened her mouth to say something, but Director Fussybottom held up his hand. She remained silent as he continued.
A Warrior, A Weaver
A Seer and More
Must follow the call
And walk out the door
Some will live
Some will die
Some will smile
Some will cry
What more can I say
To those in this room
Go on this quest
Or perish in doom
The Elders all stared at each other in horror as the words of the prophecy registered. My mind whirled as I tried to make sense of it.
“Let me see this,” Shivani said, snatching up the parchment to study it closely.
“But what does this mean?” Miss Prissy whimpered, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a large handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Are we all going to die?”
“Wait a second. It mentioned something about a weaver,” I said, frowning. My stomach started to churn as I realized something profound. “My name is Charlie Weaver. Am I the weaver in this prophecy?”
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Shivani said, waving the prophecy at us. “Have any of you really looked at this? Whoever wrote it has really bad handwriting.” She rolled her golden eyes. “And it’s written in crayon. How am I supposed to take this seriously?”
I could tell that Shivani wasn’t taking this prophecy very seriously. “Shivani, this isn’t funny. You’re a warrior and I’m a weaver. We need to go on this quest.”
“Well done, Charlie,” Professor Pedantic nodded with approval. I admit that I glowed under his compliment. “I think you’ve interpreted one part of the prophecy.”
“What quest?” Shivani started laughing. Tears streamed out of her eyes. “The whole thing is ridiculous. Where are we supposed to go? What are we looking for? The whole thing is a complete joke.” She plopped down on a chair, laughing hysterically.
The Elders all stared at Shivani, some with open disapproval. Professor Pedantic shook his head. “These are matters for the committee to evaluate,” he said, which sent Shivani into another fit of laughter.
“You may think this is a joke, Miss Roy, but we take our prophecies very seriously in Bharat,” Director Fussybottom said sternly.