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Short Story - The Sadly Mistaken Adventures of Sar Doddledom

Tim is a freelance writer, poet, artist and storyteller. He always tries to find and include lessons for everyone in his writing.

Tim Rebkavets

Tim Rebkavets

His friends call him Sar, short for Sar Doodledum, an elf of the fourth class, which means in the societal scheme of things he is somewhere near the bottom. In fact, it is quite common for people of the other three social classes to cross the street in order to avoid acknowledging his presence.

Despite his social status Sar, is quite the looker. He stands about six foot four, medium build with shoulder length black hair and piercing green eyes. Unlike most elves, he does not dress in the usual manner, but prefers a more non-descript drab green hunting cloak, worn over a shirt and pants made of the same drab green material. Many a lady turned a quick glance in his direction when they saw him coming their way, and then turned away lest he catch their eye.

Two days before Sar took his turn as the kings new taste tester he was out enjoying himself taking in the sights and sounds of the little city of Dunshire. His friends had given him a going away party. “No pun intended,” they had said, and Sar had taken no offense, but you never knew. Others of his class, some he had known some he didn’t, had taken their turns as the kings taste tester and returned with many a tall tale of life in the castle proper, others, well he would rather not think about that now.

Not that he feared his own death, he didn’t. One day he dreamed of being one of the king’s knights, who braved the world outside the city and returned with tales of bravery and battles. Tales of dragons slain and fair maidens rescued. Knights feared nothing, well except maybe the day they could no longer be knights, but nothing else. Therefore, if he wanted to be a knight he could not fear death. He looked down at his waist. No, what he feared the most was a bulging waistline from all the food he would be eating.

Artem Sapegin

Artem Sapegin

He came upon the intersection of Plum and Cherry Streets and started to turn left onto Cherry when a beak nosed old woman stepped out of the shadows of a nearby doorway. She walked over and stood practically nose to nose with him. He could smell her stale breath, commingled with the smell of a few months of missed opportunities for nice hot baths. She looked into his eyes; a smile came to her face. Sar started to speak but before he could, the old woman’s form changed to one more familiar to him.

Instead of the old woman, before him now stood, a fresh faced young woman, slightly younger than him, with long black hair, and piecing green eyes. She had a look to her most men cold not resist, yet those who knew her stayed an equal distance away.

“You best keep your eyes out in that castle,” Her sweet breath tickled his nostrils.
Sar smiled, "I will...but since when are you worried about me...or anyone else for that matter?"
The young lass grabbed his lapel and gave him a come hither look.
"You know I'm always worried about my best guy."
Sar pulled away and backed up a few steps. "I'm not your GUY!"
"We've done this dance before Sar. One way or the other you will be mine."
She turned and started to walk away. Then stopped and looked back as she blew him a kiss.
Sar stumbled a little as if the kiss actually had touched him. A chill ran up his spine.
He looked up. Thankfully the woman was no where to be seen.

Jeff Finley

Jeff Finley

Sar let out a sigh and started once again on his journey to the castle.
"Hey Sar where you going in such a hurry?"
Sar turned in the direction of the voice he knew so well. Coming up behind him was an auburn haired woman his own age. She had on a long green dress. Sar had always thought of her as attractive but had never seen her as a girlfriend type. More like a ...well let’s just say if you do anything she didn’t like she'd beat the crap out of you type of girl. She was also good with a short bow.
"Hey Dwin...what’ are you up to?”
”Nothing much...thought I’d tag along with you till you get to the castle. I saw you talking to the White Witch. What’d she want? Trying to hook up with you again. Remember I have those special arrows. One of those...”
”No were not going to shoot her with an arrow. As much as I want you to...she just won’t leave me alone.”
Dwin smirked, “Well you are quite the catch.”
”Yeah who’d want to date the king‘s taste tester. The last one...well let’s not go there.”
”I know quite a few girls who would,” she batted her eyes.
”Stop, even if I thought of you like that...well let’s just say...being a taste tester is less dangerous.”
Gwin smacked him on the back of the head.
“Hey I was only kidding.”
Gwin grabbed him by the arm. “So was I.” She smiled.
Sar looked down at her. Was it possible she liked him in a girl friendly kind of way. He shook his head. No that wasn’t possible.

“So why are you really here.” He glanced over at her.
She looked down at the road. “I’m here to kill you.”
“Keep your voice down people will hear you. Let me explain.”
“Yeah you’re going to explain alright. Now give.”
“Your family is worried about you. They figured if it looked like someone ambushed you on the way to the palace and killed you...then you would be safe hiding out somewhere.”
“Did my family think this through? Where did they think I would go?”
“Really...Sar I don,t know...I was just.”
“The whole idea is ridiculous. Go and tell my family I’m going to the palace and do as I was called.”
“Sar…,” she looked at him.
“Don’t...if you want to walk with me then let’s go.”
They’d only gone a few steps more when Sar heard a soft thud from behind. He started to turn and look but felt a knife thrust into his side.”
“Sorry,” said a voice he did not recognize. It has to look real."
His last thought was that his family had carried out their plan.

© 2020 Timothy Whitt

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