The Messenger

This short piece was written as an entry into a contest. It is 300 words long and uses the prompt words Armour, Rays and Sequins. Unfortunately i got the time frame slightly mixed up and consequently didn't get it submitted in time. Thought id post it anyway.

The Messenger


The vile stench of decay and human filth filled the soldier’s lungs and lingered about him. Trapped within the armour of his king, he knew he was now nothing more than a messenger; The Messenger. Carrying the only information his people never wanted to hear.

The king is dead...the king is…dead.

After years of war and far too much bloodshed, what should have been a message of triumph, a speech of freedom and conquest was now an epitaph. The soldier’s return would symbolise failure, defeat and death. For although the battle had been won, the King had fallen by the swords of his enemy. His dying request had been that his people have their victory. That his Kingdom should not learn of his death until after his army’s triumphant return.

For three days the Messenger had ridden the king’s horse and worn the king’s armour to keep up the pretence. He had carried the banner of his kingdom and nodded his acknowledgement to all that he passed upon his journey. Never did he remove his helmet. Never did he stop nor speak for fear of exposing his message prematurely.

Blood and filth of the king still remained within the armour and it swilled with that of the soldier. The stench made him nauseous. He fought continuously to maintain his composure and balance but could not help retch and gag. The sovereign body itself was swaddled and being escorted by plain caravan two days behind him.

As the Messenger approached the gates to his kingdom, even though he trembled with fatigue and sickness he portrayed the victorious and majestic leader. The rays of the Sun sparkled and shone upon his Royal armour like sequins. The crowds cheered and hooted at the brave and triumphant return of their sovereign ruler; their King.