Banners stretched and flapped in the cruel grasp of the wind, seeming to change form whenever we looked. The flags of kings and princes announced their presence, the presence of gracious nobility amongst us commonfolk. The twin smells of wood smoke and of suckling pig clung heavily to the treetops that stood as a buffer, protecting the clearing. The clash of sword on shield echoed against our ears.
Soon we would arrive.
Pine needles entrenched themselves tightly against our britches. Their crunch seemed ever-present beneath our feet as we edged our way toward the dell.
My stomach grumbled its protestation at our delay. My ragtag companions voiced their assent in unity; we all were hungry – there had been no time to pause while we were on the road.
We stepped, unnoticed, into the throng.
No eyes turned to witness our intrusion, our coins crossed their palms as often as we chose. No merchant refused us for our once-normal costume, foreign as it was here.
We were tired, after what had seemed like hours of travel. We were tired, praying for sleep. Our quest was at an end as we loaded up the van, preparing to go home. We promised each other as the children slept. We promised each other we would return to the Medieval Festival next year.
This story seems to me unfinished. Sorry to post it really, but I couldn’t really figure out how to keep writing it (or to make it an actual story.) Also, that seems to be the best photo I could get on the ol’ iPad… Anyway, this story was written for BeKindRewrite‘s prompts this week Praying for Sleep, Changes When You Look at it, and What Year is it?. I also used this week’s 3WordWednesday words: Buffer, Transition and Unity and the Sunday Scribblings prompt from last week: stretch. Gah! Feedback, please!