Fall From Glory

• Ashley Ware, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2008

The year is 1340.

The servants are setting the grand dining table of Dukeford castle in preparation for the many visitors that are coming at dusk. I stand silently near the doorway, watching their hasty progress. I hear the door open, and look up to see a crowd of brilliantly dressed men and women, all worthy of my father’s trust. As the dining room quietens, I push through the door, run up the staircase and into my living quarters. I refuse to join the party, for my mother died a week before. So on my bed I lay, thinking about all the joys I used to have with her. I lift the piece of silken fabric off my head, so my golden blonde hair fans out over my shoulders. I look around my bedroom and catch my reflection in my big mirror. I see a girl approaching womanhood. Her large blue eyes look frightened. Her full lips shine as red as blood. Who is this girl? I wonder.

Suddenly I hear a scream. It sounds like it’s coming from my father’s room. I begin to shake. The world feels like it is slowly but surely collapsing onto my shoulders. I emerge from my fright, and try to think logically, all the while running to my father’s quarters. Portraits of my once upon a time family slowly pass me. It seems that my legs don’t want to carry me as much as I so desperately need them to.
Finally I reach his room and push open the door. The screaming has died down to a throaty moan. My eyes search the bed, chests, and wardrobe, and stop when they reach the bathroom door. My father is lying in the doorway, his eyes are closed, and he is beginning to lose all signs of life.
I fall to my knees, too scared to move a limb. Trembling, I finally crawl over to his rigid body. His clothes are ripped, and his bleeding mouth is beginning to swell. I move my gaze down his unmoving body. His shirt is saturated with blood. I unbutton it. My jaw drops as I gape at a deep hole in his chest.

My eyes begin to blur. A lump slowly rises in my throat, making me choke. I move my thin hand over to his shoulder, shaking him.
“Father?” I whisper urgently in his ear. Silence.
Through my teary eyes I see his face paling and his glazed over eyes seem to be peering right through my soul.
Suddenly I grow desperate.
“FATHER!!” I scream, grabbing his body and shaking him as hard as I can. Everything is a blur. The world starts to spin around me, so fast I don’t know what’s happening. I hear a creaking sound behind me. I’m afraid to look. Footsteps. Slowly turning my head around, I see a man standing in the entrance, his dark eyes staring at me, full of hatred. In his hand he holds a bloody knife.