Category: Writers Block
This came from a writing prompt. I'm no Bernard Cornwell, but enjoy anyway.
It was a warm summer's day in August, the morning of the dual. The birds sang softly in the trees, a stream babbled on its way near the clearing as the crowd assembled quietly murmurring among themselves. Though the sun was hot, a warm breeze made the heat far less oppressive than it ordinarily would've been. He drew his sword and started the attack. "Give it up Michael" his adversary said. "You're not going to win this one." The blow came as a surprise to him though. It didn't hit home, for David was far too quick witted and parried the blow easily. All the same he didn't expect him to cut quite like that at him. On the fight raged, first one man then the other gaining the upper hand. From one end of the clearing to the other. The few spectators that had come to see this difference of oppinion sorted out, grew bored. "Come on! Get into him!" came the cries, but neitehr of them wanted to it seemed. Neither of them in fact wanted the fight at all. It was, however, customary to fight like this once the battle lines had been drawn, and drawn they had been over the fair lady Amanda. An interesting term according to the more unkind locals, Amanda was neither fair, nor a lady. Love her though the two adversaries both did, and here they were now, fighting for honour and her hand. Suddenly there came a cry from one of the spectators. "Look out!" But by the time he got to utter the word "out!" the stone had rolled down the hill, tripped David up and he was laying on the grass, motionless. Noone knew how the stone got there. Was it thrown? Rolled? Or was it just one of those freak accidents that just happened from time to time. Unfortunate it certainly was, it resolved the conflict. Michael replaced his sword in its scabard and rushed to survey the damage. "David. You allright?" No answer. "David?" Michael became more concerned. David's sword lay a short distance away from him as he'd staggered, dropping it, and now layed sprawled on the grass not moving. The physician was called for, but it would be a while before he'd appeared. There was no telling, once he did arrive, what state he'd be in. The good doctor, not uncommonly for those days, was more often to be found in one of the local taverns, sampling the ale and gambling rather than practising medicine, so god only knows how he'd be by the time they reached him. Eventually, the spectator who'd been sent to fetch the doctor returned with a somewhat more sober doctor in tow than usual. "Make way then. Let me see the poor, unfortunate fellow." But, alas, there was nothing the doctor could do. It had already been too late when David had fallen. He'd not get up again.
Well penned as usual, my friend. Hmmmmm. Life is a funny thing sometimes, isn't it. Felled by a simple stone indeed. If you wanted to, you could lengthen this significantly and perhaps even make a book of it. Keep writing. Talk soon.
Trevyn Wolf
interisting, talk about being cursed!
Hi folks,
Thanks for replying to this little piece. Sadly, I'm not sure what I can do with it Trevyn, as this thing is so badly researched it's unreal. I have it set in the afternoon, without seconds whereas in fact duels were most commonly fought in the morning--at dawn--and away from spectators. Seconds for both duellers were also present.
I did though write this as a stream of consciousness from a writing prompt, so perhaps I can be forgiven then. It might be useful as the starting point for something though. Perhaps a more modern day approach, changing it from duelling to single combat between two skilled fighters of a couple of gangs. There's a fair bit to think about at any rate.
Either way though as I said, thanks for checking this out, and talk to you soon.
Cheers,
Simon
This story is very vague and seems like a passage out of a book that was randomly selected. We know nothing of the background or the characters. Some improvement might help your readers grasp your story better and perhaps understand it fully.
When was this happening? When exactly in the afternoon?
Who are these people, where are they from, and why are they fighting over a girl? What was the conflict at hand? Why did they both want her?
Why were the doctors more prone to ail and drink? What caused society to be this way? What does these characters look like?
Perhaps I may edit for you?
It was a first draft that I am no longer going to do anything with, owing to some historical inconsistancies as I said in the post above yours. So, lovely offer though it is, I must decline your offer of an edit.
Cheers,
Simon