Their Thirst For Pride

2 - Inventions & Disdain

His finger tapped relentlessly on the desk as he sat, thinking about what he could possibly create for this competition. Orion Blakesmith had been an engineer for a long time and a good one at that but that day he couldn’t seem to come up with anything. He could always bring something he’d created in the past but that felt like cheating. His eyes shifted around the room as he listened to the loud tapping noise in his small quiet workshop. His gaze landed upon an hourglass sitting by a dusty window, all of the sand inside sat at the bottom. Its design was beautiful, the frame was made of metal with a bunch of swirly carvings, and the sand was an eye-catching red. An idea finally came to mind but he cringed. It was so stupid but he couldn’t think of anything else. His lack of creativity saddened him. When he was younger, his family would laugh at his sketches of ideas and the puny proto-types he’d make. Whenever he’d show  someone something he made, they laughed or told him he needed improvement. Even if the criticism wasn’t made to be rude he never took it well. His immediate response used to be to resort to anger which would eventually send him to crying that he couldn’t control. He knew it was dramatic but he didn’t have the strength to ignore it. As he got older, he learned to take the criticism and attempt to improve but it still angered him. He hadn’t reacted to his rage for years and didn’t plan on acting so childish for the rest of his days. But this idea certainly was tempting him. Oh well, it’d be stupid to not at least try.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Forrest Winslow sighed, dipping his paintbrush into some green paint. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing, all he had was a sky and mountains on a canvas, he was kind of going with what he had.
“Who is it? I’m busy.”
“Forrest, I have some exciting news!”
“Sorry, mother, I can't come out right now. I’m busy.” He responded, beginning to cover the bottom of the canvas in green.
“It’s from Emavaria. Please hurry.”
“Does my entire life have to revolve around that place?” He said, putting the brush down. He was so tired of being pestered by that kingdom and his parents.
No response. She’d already left, of course. He took his apron off and threw it on the ground beside the stool he’d been sitting on and walked over to his nightstand, pulling on the top drawer. It took some force since the thing was so old and his ears ached at the sound it made whenever it opened. He picked up the folded, tattered piece of paper inside and opened it up. He hadn’t looked at the note in so long, dreading reading it again but he felt like he had to. His wedding was soon. He’d been chosen to marry the queen of Emavaria and that fact alone had ruined his life. He was educated in politics and brought up in a rich family which sounds nice when you think about it but it was never nice for him. The thought of love irked him when he was little and the older he got, the more he understood the concept of arranged marriages and the fact that he might be king one day. Why couldn’t he choose who he wanted to love? One day, when he was sixteen, he fell in love with a girl from Emavaria but she was no queen. Even though he knew it was wrong, he dated her. It was wrong in so many ways. He had to sneak off to the kingdom to see her, he was potentially going to marry the queen, and the girl’s family wasn’t exactly doing well financially. But he loved her so much. Screw the queen. The whole reason they weren’t together anymore was just for that reason, he was in some weird competition with others to marry her and he somehow, unfortunately won.
“Good morning, mister.” Forrest’s dad said as he walked into the room.
“Morning.” He sat down in a chair across from his parents and stared at them with indignance.
“We received this letter from Emavaria last night. It’s an invitation to the annual games.” His mother said. She was clearly the only one enthusiastic about this in the room.
“Your mother suggested you use your… artistic talent and enter the art competition.” Said his father.
“Absolutely not.” Forrest answered.
“Why not?” His mother asked.
“I have a life, you know? I don’t need to waste a couple weeks over there.”
“You should give it a try. How many times have you spoke to Queen Lyra?”
He sighed, “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! You’re going to spend your entire life with her.”
Forrest laughed.
“You’re going to do this, young man.” His father said.
“I’ll think about it.” He lied.
His mother handed him the letter and watched as he walked away. Back to painting.

As the lanterns on the wall of the various buildings around the marketplace dimmed with the soon arriving night, a drowsy potion merchant leaned against the counter of his shop, munching on some cubes of cheese one of the other merchants had given him. The streets were mostly empty, only a few stragglers not seeming to get the memo that the shops were closing soon. Lex Garvish was about to close up shop, not expecting anymore customers but among those stragglers was a young woman who seemed just as lost as many others. The ones that seemed lost were usually signing up for the games and not buying one of his potions. He rolled his eyes and began to close up his case of elixirs.
“Good evening, miss. Can I help you with anything?” Lex asked the woman who finally made her way to his shop.
“No, I just want a sign up sheet for the games.” She said, picking up one of the last papers.
“What a shame. I could still sell you a potion, I’m not supposed to close for another…” He took a second to look at his watch, “minute!”
“I’m okay. Have a good night, sir.” She said, turning to leave.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try a love potion?”
She turned around and gave him a dirty look, “What are you implying?”
“What? Am I not handsome? The potion could change your mind!” He said, smirking and brushing back his golden hair.
“Ugh! Who raised you!?”
“Worth a try.”
The woman then proceeded to say some not very nice words to him and left for home.

Somewhere in the outskirts of Emavaria sat a lonely girl in her room. Salty tears drifted down her face as she thought about her past, the very thing that lead her to picking up a sign up sheet for the writing portion of the annual games. She couldn’t even get a form without being bothered. After sulking for a few moments, she finally picked up her pen and put it to the blank paper in front of her.
You were the first thing I’ve ever had to get rid of.
It was late in the evening when we first met, I should have bean wary, not weary.
But oh, the way you swept me off of my feet and called me your dove.
The night breeze and your sweet gaze pulled me in.
And I foolishly called you my love.
I was filled to the brim with disdain when you left.
And everything in me broke the day you said I wasn’t enough.
Claire Amaryllis | Writing | 15th Annual Games