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I had forgotten about this prompt actually, the prompt without a prompt. Oh yes, you didn’t understand that, did you? Well, well, I’ll explain it to you. So this prompt is basically just to write. Go somewhere you feel relaxed, don’t be tense and breathe. In and out, it’s not that hard. Then close your eyes, take a deep breath and feel how your muscles relax. Open your eyes and let your fingers do their magic work, let them fly over the keyboard, let your words flow through your pen. Wow, that sounds poetic, weird.
Generally, I have trouble relaxing, I am usually always up to something, never letting my mind take a break and just sit down. That’s why I find this one to be very nice and fun to write. I, personally went outside, evening, the weather was perfect, sunny, blue sky and warm. Laying in our hammock with a blanket over my legs, one hanging outside. Man, I loved it, so comfortable. Then I just wrote what came to my mind. Somehow I decided I didn’t want a lot of detail and I wrote a bit historical perhaps, with castle’s, kingdoms and swords. I didn’t know how I came up with it really, but for 30 minutes I was just lazying writing what came to my mind and now when I’ve read it through it’s quite alright. I didn’t care about my spelling or grammar, that I could fix later and it was just so relaxing laying there in the hammock. Anyway, this is what I came up with in 30 minutes!
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”Come closer,” he whispered ”and I’ll tell you the story of the boy with the flowers”
The man with many lives sat on a bench, a cane beside him, to support his shoulders. His eyes were heavy, tired like he’d seen too much of the world. The children the man spoke to sat themselves around him, some on the bench beside him, some on the ground. But everyone was quiet and listening, even the birds were giving no sound away.
”Like all the other stories, it begins like this; once upon a time, there was a boy with a sword.” As the man began he lost himself in the world of swords. ”He grew up with no father and no mother, all he had was a sword given by no one. Like every other orphan boy he used the streets as his house; the alley’s as beds, the markets as food, stealing became a habit and oh, was he good at it. He could walk empty-handed in a crowd and come right out with coins that would flow through his fingers like water.”
”What was his name?” A girl sitting beside the man asked, looking wide-eyed at him with admiration, entirely lost in his story.
”An orphan boy has no name.” He smiled as he continued the story of the boy with a sword. ”When the war broke out the king died and the prince was left for the crown, luckily he was going to lead the kingdom into a time of glory and wealth. But the lords were sceptical against the prince; he was so young, so inexperienced, knew nothing about the harsh world. But what the lords didn’t know was that the prince was an exceptional swordsman and an exceptional strategist. He saw the court as a battlefield, and like with a battlefield he had to be cautious.”
”What do catios mean?” asked a young boy, by the looks of it, the young boy only wanted to hear about fights and shining knights, not what the man had to say.
”It meant he had to be careful, have eyes in his back and ears everywhere so no one could go conspire behind his back.” The little boy didn’t look satisfied by the man’s answer but he didn’t know what to do to make the child happy so he decided to ignore it.
”Ever since the boy saw the prince in that competition he wanted to know how to wield the sword as well as the prince, and even better. He was so small that boy, he could sneak in everywhere, almost fit in the smallest box, and clever was he. Knew when people were making fun of him, knew when he was being played. Every day he would sneak into the garden where the knights were training, where the prince was training, he would copy their moves and after a few years, he could move as light as them, smoothly swinging the sword left and right, up and down. Every day, he would practice until the sun went down. Until he was spotted by the Gardner. The castle had many gardeners and he was no one special, just one in a crowd. Gardners are like ghosts, they can move around a garden and hear everything and see everything, they know where to stand to see through windows, where the prince’s favourite flowers grew.”
”But what did the Gardner do when he saw the boy?” Impatient children, the man thought. But then again, so was the boy.
”The boy threatened the Gardner’s life with his sword, and the Gardner swore to never tell a soul about the boy. And that was it. The boy continued to practice in the garden, away from the soldiers, and the Gardner would watch as he planted his flowers. One evening, when the boy was about to head back the Gardner asked ’why?’ and the boy just looked at him. Over the years he had practised he had eventually forgotten his purpose, the prince was no longer his priority. He had grown up, realised that they were living in different worlds, and the boy was fine with that. So when the Gardner looked at him, almost old enough to retire, he couldn’t answer. So instead of forcing an answer, the Gardner told the boy to help him to which he did. The Gardner knew the boy had lost his purpose of life a long time ago, so every day, after the boy was done with his practising he would tell the boy about his flowers. How-”
”What did he tell him?” The eyes were large, the largest the man had ever seen, and a beautiful blue, just like the boy.
”If you let me finish, I might tell you.” The man meant it as a joke, even smiling but the little boy began crying anyway. And to the man’s rescue, the sister comforted her brother.
”He gets like this sometimes after mama and papa left us.” All the man did was nod, trying to understand their situation when he didn’t.
”The Gardner would tell the boy what the flowers name were, how much water they needed and the story to why they were there. Each flower had a story of why it was there. The sunflower was loved by the queen and the dandelions where the princess’ favourite. Even the prince had a favourite – daisies. Soon, the boy didn’t come there for just sword practice, he came to the Gardner, his stories and his flowers. As the man grew older and older the boy helped him more and more, forgetting the soldiers and their swords. At last, the Gardner had to retire and the boy took over, but you can still see him sometimes practising with his sword in the garden of flowers.”
”That’s the ending?” Annoyed, the children began standing up, it wasn’t the man who said the story was over but the children. As the children walked away, annoyed by not having a good ending, the man smiled sadly and saw their figures disappear until they weren’t even dots. What the children didn’t hear was that in a few years, the boy was spotted by the prince, their facial structure the exact same, both with a birthmark under their eye, like a drop of water. In a few years, he found his dead mother and his dead father with a crown on their head. But the boy didn’t favour the prince anymore, all he wanted to do was to stay in the garden and practise with his sword because he had finally found a purpose in his life that meant he could be content.
”Old man! Come on, stand up, we need to get the dandelions in the earth before sundown or they’ll turn bad.” A young man appeared in front of him, odd that he didn’t notice him before.
”Why rush Daisy? The sky isn’t even orange yet, and the night is young.” He smiled at the young man and began walking towards the castle gate, with the young man and his sword trailing quietly behind him.
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And that was that for this week. I hoped you enjoyed it and try to do this as well.
And of course, I’ll give you the link to The Write Practice website because these prompts are in no way my own. Nope, here’s the link >here. And here’s the E-book (here) which is what these prompts are based on. The book is for free, just follow their steps since you need to subscribe to their website. But if you enjoy writing I don’t think their E-mails are annoying.
Have a nice day folks.