GoT Writings

Week 3, Day 5: story: Ruler of my World

My World to Rule
Looking out over my subjects, I see so the many faces and shapes that comprise my beautiful kingdom. They are all different. There are the beautiful ones, the dumb ones, the smart ones, the cranky ones, the round ones with the bulbous nose and gigantic lips, the wee ones, the gigantic ones, the funny ones, the bored ones, all of them have come forward to stay the dangers that threaten our land. We have drawn the armies and amassed the ships. We needed to stand against this ominous presence.
It had started almost imperceptibly. A few tremors from a force unknown. Now the quakes occurred daily, followed by thunderous crashes. Then we noticed people disappearing without a trace. The chilling awareness seeped through the layers of our society: We are at war.
Who wants to be a ruler of a land at war? I don’t. So many decisions. So many demands. When only a handful of us were left, the quiet descended and covered us with its’ mantle of evil.
We could hear the distant echoes of rhythmic thumping. We would hide in our little kingdom, but it was not enough. Our sanctuary was broken by the scream of 10,000 crazies. The earth shook again. And then we were floating. We had to be floating. There was no other explanation for how our possessions were sliding across the floor as if on easy gentle waves.
Had we all died in the last quakes? Then my nose began to burn. We must all be in hell. The honeysuckle and lemon fragrances of our world were infiltrated by something long since dead, something that reeked of fetid decay. It reminds me of the time when the thing landed near our homes. It had stayed many months. The purple monstrosity started to shrivel and deepen its color. The voices of the watchers became louder as the stench released from the thing caused it to shrink into itself.
I addressed my subjects. They deserved to know that they had to protect themselves against the evils out there, for I could do nothing more. “We are in a place far worse than that thing the watchers called the plum. We must prepare for …”
The looks on my subjects faces stopped me in mid-sentence as gigantic teeth reached down and took me out of my kingdom. I was shaken considerably before a voice from above came to my rescue, “Fido. That’s Macy’s doll. Let go. Let go. Let go.” I only lost one arm in that skirmish between Fido and his mistress. “Look what you did. Bad Fido, Bad dog”
With that, I was thrown into a strange place. I was a good queen. I was strong. It didn’t even hurt. Looking around, I now knew the fate of my subjects. I was welcomed into this new place with familiar welcoming slaps on the back and messages of good cheer. We were a sad lot. All of us had battle scars from bite marks, scratches, broken or missing limbs, some had been their hair torn out, but we were alive and we were together again. We lived to tell.
Occasionally new ones arrive, each with a new war story of battle survival. From the sound of it, we are the lucky ones. This has become a kingdom of misfits. But it is my kingdom. It is my world to rule.
[word count:569]

and "Game of Thrones"