I return once again to the writing prompt recently offered to me by Ruby8. While not so much a traditional prompt, but an invitation to write ‘whatever came to mind’ based on a short sampling of her excellent writing, I came up with a segment of a story I titled, ‘The Crimson Dragonfly’, this too based on Ruby8’s words. You can read that initial tale here
Now, while I can’t speak for other writers and the methods they utilize to coax a story into existence, I know for me oftentimes the smallest things can set it off and if interesting enough to that little writer in my head, I’ll follow to see what I see, oh, and write. Partly based on my curiosity and even more so on the kind encouraging words of those who have read my attempt at designing a story based on Ruby8’s words, I decided to keep the ‘flow’ going with ‘The Crimson Dragonfly’. Instead of just trying to knock out an ongoing and linear extension, I decided to try something different. There are only a handful of characters born of this story so far. I figured I could one at a time allow them to feed me a part of their story as it relates to the original tale. As with prompt writing, whatever came to mind is what went to page. First up? Lord Chindrat. Sorry, you’ll actually have to click the above link to see who he is… that is if you don’t already! I do hope this continuation might pique the interests of a few who have already read the first part and have some remembrance of this character.
Either way or anyway, here is a second dip into the deepening world belonging to, ‘The Crimson Dragonfly’.
“Forgive me, My Lord, but I do not see what you find so appealing in her.”
“Zekima,” Chindrat smiled. “I don’t know who-
“Don’t know who? Who else could I be referring to except the Lady N’dala in Minnshassa? Are there no desirable, interesting women here in Khaz for you to consider?”
“Does Khaz possess desirable women? Yes. Does our capitol city of Khaz possess tradition-minded, non-combative women willing to allow their men to make the important decisions when important decisions related to their continued well being need making? No. My mother it appears was the last of her kind in that regard. However, Lady N’dala- ”
“Sir, Lady N’dala is not the woman you think she is. Don’t be taken in by her beauty, her charms.”
“Too late I fear, Zekima. There is no other woman in all of Khaz with N’dala’s beauty or charms.”
“Might I suggest Lady-?
“Zekima,” Chindrat laughed as he took a seat next to his friend. “I respect no one’s wisdom and foresight more than yours. You know this to be so because I tell it to you all the time. Yet when it comes to the Lady N’dala, I fear your vision became clouded by Khazian and Minnshassian politics long ago.”
“You make a valid point, Chindrat, but don’t tell me, you mean to simply walk into Minnshassa, profess your love, and have she and the royal family accept you and your goals for their holy city with open arms?”
“Where is your faith, Zekima? Am I not handsome, accomplished, and chivalrous, with charms of my own?
“Forgive me, My Lord. I didn’t mean to suggest-
“We’ve seen and done too much in this life my old friend for me to not know you meant well. Still, I understand your doubts. Just remember what the Seeress of the Feramani Vek foretold three months ago. My destiny awaits me in the Dream Palace’s Khanessar Gardens. The prediction can only mean one thing. I will win N’dala’s heart and the city of Minnshassa in one fell swoop during the hour of the Panther Queen.”
An attendant entered Chindrat’s study bearing a platter with two tall glasses of Vamarian ale. The man set a glass each in front of the two men and then exited.
“You are right, My Lord. The Seeress Hasheet has never been wrong in her predictions. It would be foolish to doubt her now.”
“Hasheet did tell me during my last visit her predictions are not meant to be literal. She suggested three days solitude and meditation before any action taking,” Chindrat said.
“Did you give any consideration to these suggestions? Zekima asked.
“I cannot see her meaning a different outcome than the one I see in my mind’s eye. Success, as was foretold in Haffad, Linjing, and Droma, Zekima,” Chindrat boasted. “Please do not tell me you’ve forgotten those campaigns?”
“I did not accompany you to Haffad or Linjing, My Lord,” said Zekima “Yet I was there in Droma. I’m not so sure that one qualifies as a victory.”
“You are a tough old wolf, my friend,” roared Chindrat, downing his ale and balancing the glass on his opened palm. “Next you will tell me three days of solitude and meditation as Hasheet prescribed could very well change my mind.” Zekima, not one for rapid consumption of the potent Varmarian ale, placed his still half- full glass back on the table.
“I wouldn’t think of it, My Lord.”
K’lee L. © 2015