Short story for daily fiction |
"No, no, no. You have it all wrong. The script clearly says that the sword is in the tree not the rock. Do I have to do everything myself?" The woman storms up the stage stairs, everyone can hear her mumbling about squirrels. Once on the stage she grabs the prop sword and makes her way to the tree prop. As she approaches the tree to stab the sword into it, she trips and the sword flies into the air. Everyone holds their breath as they watched the sword fall perfectly back into the stone. Scrambling to her feet the woman scowles at the prop sword and steps back over to the stone and grips the prop by the hilt, pulling as she had the first time, but this time the sword doesn't move so easily. The resistance takes the woman off guard, she almost falls on her face as she tries to walk away. The stage hands snicker at the sight, but her glare silences most and a hush falls over the stage. Once the sword comes free the woman makes her way back to the tree prop. Again as she tried to plunge the sword into the tree, she seemed to trip and the sword gracefully settled into the stone with a whisper of awe from the onlookers. The woman stood back up and walked over to the sword and this time firmly grasped the hilt, planted her feet and yanked on the sword. The sword stays planted and the woman steps back shaking her head at the props, before shouting at the stage hands. "Well can't you fools see the script clearly stated the sword is in the stone." As she walks off stage an old voice whispers but everyone hears it clearly, "As it should be." |