Vainglorious
For Heather Hubler's "Unscramble" Unofficial Challenge
Glorious, he thought, as he sat valorising with rousing vigour the raising of the enemy's shields. The grins of his men and the chants of "saviour" was the salving he needed for the wounds he got in the hard fought battle.
As the violins and violas sounded out, the rovings of the enemy's land began. But it was all vain.
As they made their way through the gap where the imposing golden gates once stood and entered into the courtyard within the castle, they were met with silence and no visible sign of life.
They searched around the courtyard before making their way up the winding stairs to the turrets and around the battlements. So busy they were that they didn't see the stirring of life in lagoons outside the castle. They didn't see the rousing of their enemies, as the ravens soaring overhead sounded their doom. They were surrounded.
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Thanks for reading!
Author's Notes: This is my third entry into Heather Hubler's excellent Unscramble Challenge thingo. More details about that below. 150 words microfiction and used 15 words from Vainglorious.
here is more pish by yours truly:
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
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Comments (6)
I'm appreciating the violins and violas sounding out...poetic song for glory (or defeat?). Loved the last lines so much, you finished strong! Wonderful, glorious entry, my friend!!!
Oh… what a tale about such an impressive word! Love… ‘ As the violins and violas sounded out, the rovings of the enemy's land began. But it was all vain.’✅
Great word! Excellent micro! And admirable execution of the unscramble challenge! A triple threat!
Oo, this was well done! Scottish to its core and clannish and fighty and everything! Loved this.
Oh no, they're surrounded! I loved that you wrote a story for this challenge! Very Paulitical! 🍩🥐
This is a rousing entry, Paul. Hard pressed on all sides our hero's fell and our savior proved the fool. Self congratulation before the battle is truly won has a long and exasperating tradition. Unfortunately, there exists a poetic tradition that celebrates the vain glorious act, "into the valley of death rode the 600..." from The Charge of the Light Brigade comes immediately to mind. I hate to say anything bad about Tennyson, since I love his poetry, but that is a supremely stupid poem. I love that your story does not celebrate the vain glorious act but simply highlights its consequences.