Tag Archives: microfiction challenge

March 27, 2017

The Princess and the Troll

Theodor Kittelsen – The Princess picking Lice from the Troll

Once upon a time there lived an eccentric princess by the name of Sarala. Each week a smelly old troll named Tohopka came to visit her in the castle veranda.

Princess Sarala was a young girl when she first met Tohopka. She had been searching for salamanders and pollywogs along the creek beds.

Tohopka had studied the princess and the gentle way she handled the tiny creatures. Though trolls are typically dim-witted, he managed to devise a scheme. He would use the princess to gain advantage over her father who sought to kill him and all the other trolls in the land.

Mustering every ounce of charm he had, a mere wiry ear-hair’s worth, he presented himself to her, meek as a lamb.

“Good day fair maiden,” he hissed from the shadows.

“Oh my goodness!” Sarala gasped, “you gave me such a fright! Are you not a troll? My father warned me about the likes of you.”

Before she could cry for help Tohopka appealed to her, “I am indeed a troll, just as you say but I have been much maligned by rumors. In truth, I long to live peaceably with one and all. But you see, I am beset by a most horrible infestation of lice! It is their constant gnawing and slithering that makes my skin crawl and my behavior so surly. If only I could rid myself of them.”

Feeling compassion for the beast Sarala replied, “Oh, how awful for you. Maybe I can help. Come closer so I can pluck these pests from your pelt.”

Tohopka was delighted to comply. It had been easier than he imagined to deceive the girl. Bit by nit, he weaseled his way into Princess Sarala’s trust.

When the people learned of this they appealed to her father, “Oh great king, you must do something! We fear for Princess Sarala’s life and our own for we have it on good authority that she has befriended a troll!”

Alarmed by this, the King summoned his daughter immediately. “Is it true Sarala? What is this I hear about you and a troll?”

“Oh father, you don’t know Tohopka as I do. He is quite gentle and harmless, not at all the raging beast you claim he is! I beg of you father, please believe me, he means us no harm. He is my friend. Please don’t kill him father, I would miss him so!”

The King, though fierce in battle, was putty in his daughter’s hands. “Fine,” he said, “you may have your wish to remain friends with this Tohopka. But he shall be treated like a house pet and only under the watchful eyes of my royal guards.”

This turn of events played right into Tohopka’s plan. He was allowed access into the palace grounds. Years passed and the royal guard grew complacent to his presence. His evil ruse was working!

When he’d had enough of the princess’s nit-picking, Tohopka decided to end the wile. On that day, he sauntered through the gates nodding smugly at wary villagers and past the guards. But unlike the times before he did not purr when Sarala drew near. His back stiffened and he let out a terrifying howl that bellowed from his fowl mouth as he snarled revealing rows of sharp, green teeth.

“What troubles you Tohopka?” the princess innocently inquired, oblivious to the danger she faced.

“What troubles me, you ask? What troubles me Princess, is how stupid you are! To think you believed you could transform me from who and what I am by your kindness. I loath kindness. I loath you in fact! I am a Troll! What did you expect?!” he growled as he lunged toward her.

Just inches from overtaking her, the beast let out a bone-chilling scream, falling to his death in a heap at her feet. Behind him stood her father, crossbow in hand. With this last troll dead, there would be peace once more in the kingdom.

‘Twas nit-picking that eventually exposed the beast’s true nature. Princess Sarala learned an important lesson. Trolls make lousy house pets.

~kat – 27 March 2017

For Jane Dougherty’s Sunday Strange Microfiction Challenge based on the painting above by
Theodor Kittelsen called The Princess picking Lice from the Troll.

19 Comments | tags: lessons, lice, microfiction challenge, sunday strange, trolls | posted in microfiction

February 16, 2017

Saved by the Bells

By Kat Myrman

Painting by Gabriel von Max

There is a saying, “every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings”.

Once there was an evil King who hated angels. He blamed them for not protecting him from the horrors of his troubled childhood. Every child in his day learned from fairy tales told to them from cradle to school, that it is the angels who are charged with protecting children from harm, seeing them through to adulthood. The King fumed with anger over what he believed to be utter neglect by his angel. (In truth, he was a spoiled, dark-tempered child who was never satisfied.)

Hoping to eliminate all angels from the land, on the first day of his reign as King, he commanded every bell far and wide silenced forevermore. There would be no lauds or vespers tolled from church steeples, no hourly reminders in the town squares or dinner bell calls in the farmers’ fields.

The people feared him, so just as he had ordered, all bells were muted. The deafening silence had an unintentional consequence. Instead of gaining wings, every single angel lost their feathers until they were grounded. This pleased the evil King very much, until he learned that they retained all of their special powers of prophecy, wisdom, healing and the like. He was infuriated and ordered every angel killed, sending his armies out across the land to carry out the deed.

When the compassionate people near and far heard about the King’s plan to kill the angels, they opened up the cellars of their humble homes offering them sanctuary. In return for their kindness the angels prepared special oil lamps for their gracious hosts. To receive an angel lamp was a considered a great blessing and promised that your life would be charmed with good fortune for eternity – even after your soul left this realm and moved on to the next.

As more and more townsfolk harbored the poor angels in their midst, more and more light filled their dark villages. The blessings of the lamps also gave the people wisdom, strength and determination, the likes of which no one had ever seen. They realized that their selfish, overbearing King was in fact, selfish and overbearing and they started to grumble, “If they wished to ring their bells from the town squares, church steeples and farm fields, who was he to stop them!” Who was he indeed!

So the people made a plan to ring every bell in the land at the very same moment and on every hour henceforth. When at last the bells began to sing and gong and ding-a-ling dong, the land started to vibrate and the people cheered one and…almost all.

The King who had been lazing in dreary silence that fateful morning was startled to his feet by the clanging racket. He cupped his ears in rage and called for his commander to dispatch the army to quiet the blasted bells. But no one could hear him above the cling-clanging cacophony and the castle that had languished in disrepair, began to shake and crumble and quake until it came tumbling down, silencing the King forever.

Never again were the bells kept from doing what bells are created to do. And the angels soon regained their wings, never forgetting the kindness of the poor and lowly, blessing them graciously with music, hope and true happiness forevermore.

~kat – 16 February 2017

For Jane Dougherty’s Sunday Strange Microfiction Challenge based on this Gabriel von Max painting.

12 Comments | tags: microfiction challenge | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Random Thoughts and Musings, Short Stories (300+ Words)

September 14, 2016

Seasoning – Part 10

By Kat Myrman

Another installment inspired in part by this lovely painting by Casper David Fredrich and Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge.

Seasoning – Part 10

“Well, I’m off to pack! Breakfast was wonderful Hannah!”

“My pleasure ma’am.” Hannah forced a smile until Helen left the room. She glanced at Helen’s list of duties. It included daily as well as additional tasks specific to each day of the week. It was exactly what Hannah expected. Her mother had prepared her well.

She cleared the table and washed the dishes, grateful for the work that laid ahead. The whirlwind of the past few days had nearly undone her, but Hannah was determined.

She gathered the broom and duster and headed into the parlor. Hannah liked to dust. It gave her a chance to examine the valuable trinkets and photographs that lined the mantle and shelves in regal homes such as this. The things people collect, and the photographs that they display, often tell hidden stories that are never mentioned in polite conversation.

There were a number of jade figurines, flanked by beautifully ornate faberge eggs on the mantle. A floor to ceiling corner cabinet contained more treasures: a China tea set, several carved tiny boxes and a silver service. Hannah was so enthralled with the interesting array of knickknacks that she didn’t notice the absence of family photographs.

There were only two framed prints on the mantle, an early photograph of the house and one of the garden. She was mesmerized by the garden photograph. Even in black and white, there was no denying the vibrant splendor of the garden. The broken arbor that she had noticed the day before was beautiful and strong, cloaked in climbing vines. Hannah leaned in. “Mmm, I wonder if that’s wisteria…”

“Ah, you’ve found a photograph of our garden back in its day. Shows you what that old yard of weeds can be, with a bit of attention!” Helen entered the parlor, her coat draped over her arm and suitcase in tow. “The taxi should be arriving soon. Do you have any questions before I leave Hannah?”

“Just one. Is that wisteria covering the arbor?”

Helen laughed, “Oh my, I can see that I’m leaving the garden…and our family home in very good hands! It is wisteria. My mother’s favorite.”

“Mine too.” Hannah beamed.

“The taxi has arrived. Please tell the driver to help me with my bags.”

Hannah rushed past Helen to greet the driver. “Hello sir. Come in please. We have some luggage.”

Helen winked at Hannah as she followed the driver out the door. “My brother has a hard shell Hannah, but he’s a good egg. Give it time, you’ll see.”

Hannah sighed, smiling to herself as she leaned against the door. Ideas were swirling around in her head. She rushed past the parlor through the breezeway and out the back door to the garden.

Hannah stood in the middle of the brush taking it all in, “Tomorrow. Yes! Tomorrow my green friend, you and I will get to know one another!”

She returned to the house to finish her chores and plan dinner. “This is an important night.” she told the broom as she swept the entranceway. “As you know, we need to impress Mr. Chambers.” Hannah smiled, confident that she would crack that egg!

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Read Parts 1-9 HERE.

16 Comments | tags: microfiction challenge, seasoning | posted in Fiction Series, Random Thoughts and Musings, Short Stories (300+ Words)

August 14, 2016

Seasoning – Part 6

By Kat Myrman

Seasoning – Part 6

It had been a stormy day. As the taxi rounded the curve at the edge of Waverly Estate, a beautiful full rainbow graced the dark skies in the distance. Hannah just knew it was a sign that her dreams were coming true. The whole world was opening up to her. She settled into her seat, leaning her head against the window, taking it all in as the taxi headed to the city.

Henry was not happy with his sister.

“How dare you come here unannounced and take it upon yourself to manage my life as if you know what I need! You’ve crossed the line this time Helen. When this person arrives, you can send her right back where she came from. I have no use for her, or for you. And don’t get too comfortable here. I expect you to make arrangements to leave on the next train!”

“Well Henry, that is simply not an option. I’m protecting my own interest in this home as well you know. I refuse to let you run it into the ground! Our parents, and their parents before them would be heartbroken over how you’ve let things go. I’ll not have it! And you, dear brother need to get a grip. It’s been three years Henry! Alice, and yes I’ll say her name…Alice would be so sad to see you like this!”

The doorbell chimed.

“Remember what I said Henry,” Helen admonished as she glanced through the window at the taxi at the curb, “I expect you to be cordial to this young woman.

Helen opened the door while Henry scowled, arms crossed, in the parlor.

“Hello Hannah dear, i hope you didn’t encounter that awful storm on your trip. So nice to finally meet you in person!”

“Hello Mrs. Chambers.”

“Please call me Helen.”

Hannah smiled, “Hello Helen. And no, we missed the storm! Actually there was the most beautiful rainbow…” Hannah’s escalating enthusiasm faded slightly as she glimpsed a sullen Henry standing in the parlor.

Helen followed her glance, “Hannah, this is my brother Henry. He lives here. I’m just visiting as you know, and plan to stay until you’re comfortable with your duties.”

Henry stepped forward ignoring Hannah’s extended hand. “To be clear Miss, your presence here is my meddling sister’s doing. I have no need for a housekeeper or gardener or whatever else it is that she’s hired you to do. I take my meals out and work long hours. You and I will get on as long as I don’t see or hear you.” Henry glared at his sister as he stormed out of the room.

Hannah flashed a confused look toward Helen who chuckled, “Don’t pay him any mind Hannah. He’ll warm up to the idea, and to you soon enough. Let’s get you settled in your quarters.

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Installment #6 of a fiction series prompted by Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge and this Rainbow painting. You can read other installments HERE and scrolling to the series named Seasoning.

18 Comments | tags: Fiction Series, microfiction challenge, seasoning | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Fiction Series, Short Stories (300+ Words)