I'm not sure what to call this page. It's not all short stories, not all essays, so I just went with "Longer Things" because that seems to cover it all.
The Black Knight
Once upon a time, in the days of knights and kings, there was a knight called the Black Knight. He rode a black horse and wore black armor, a terror to meet in the woods at night. The Black Knight had a specific reason for his terrifying ways. The Black Knight had made a deal with Death. The more souls he claimed for Death, the longer he could live on earth.
Every night, the Black Knight would gallop through the countryside and any man he met was stabbed. Any woman with that man was raped and strangled. No one ever escaped. The villages in the country of the Black Knight prayed in their churches every day, not for protection from the plague, but that the Black Knight wouldn’t come that night. Some villages were lucky, some were not. Many villages burned in the years of the Black Knight.
Death always followed close behind the Black Knight, pleased with the destruction being done. For years, Death and the Black Knight laughed together as people’s blood stained the ground and the ashes of last night’s fires floated through the air. Many churches, mills, and fields of crops burned in those years.
The Black Knight was greedy and vain. He stole gold and jewelry from his victims, and couldn’t stand the ideas of getting old. After making the deal with Death, he killed and killed to prevent aging. As soon as he stopped killing, Death would return all the years to him, and the Black Knight would grow old and die.
The Black Knight was also untrusting. He was afraid Death would take back the deal. For hours, the Black Knight would sit and worry. One day, he began to form a plan, a plan so great that her would be a hero to everyone of he succeeded.
The Black Knight waited for his chance. He knew it would arrive eventually.
For many days and nights of slaughter, the Black Knight watched Death’s every move. At last, the Black Knight’s chance came. Death was sleeping below a tall maple, and all their surroundings were empty of any souls accept theirs and the squirrels’. The Black Knight crept up behind Death and pulled out his dagger.
Death opened his eyes just as the dagger went through his chest. The Black Knight grinned at the shocked look on Death’s face. As the Black Knight stood, pleased with what he had done, Death stood up. He pulled the dagger from his chest and chuckled. The dagger was completely clean, and no gash showed on Death’s chest.
“You thought you could kill me, and you would live forever,” Death said to the Black Knight. “I am Death, therefore I cannot die. You, on the other hand, made a deal with me. As soon as you stopped killing, you would be given your years back to age and die. You have been with me for eighty-four years now.” And with that, Death smiled. The Black Knight began to tremble, because he knew what would come next. His armor began feeling very heavy, as he was aging and weakening by the second. Death smiled, and the Black Knight collapsed. He had tried to be a hero by killing Death, but he had ended up killing himself in the act, leaving Death as the hero in the peasants’ eyes.
Death has lived on ever since. The villages slowly returned to praying for protection from the plague instead of the Black Knight, and Death returned to claiming plague victims. No other knight has ever made a deal with Death. They finally accepted Death as a part of Life.
Every night, the Black Knight would gallop through the countryside and any man he met was stabbed. Any woman with that man was raped and strangled. No one ever escaped. The villages in the country of the Black Knight prayed in their churches every day, not for protection from the plague, but that the Black Knight wouldn’t come that night. Some villages were lucky, some were not. Many villages burned in the years of the Black Knight.
Death always followed close behind the Black Knight, pleased with the destruction being done. For years, Death and the Black Knight laughed together as people’s blood stained the ground and the ashes of last night’s fires floated through the air. Many churches, mills, and fields of crops burned in those years.
The Black Knight was greedy and vain. He stole gold and jewelry from his victims, and couldn’t stand the ideas of getting old. After making the deal with Death, he killed and killed to prevent aging. As soon as he stopped killing, Death would return all the years to him, and the Black Knight would grow old and die.
The Black Knight was also untrusting. He was afraid Death would take back the deal. For hours, the Black Knight would sit and worry. One day, he began to form a plan, a plan so great that her would be a hero to everyone of he succeeded.
The Black Knight waited for his chance. He knew it would arrive eventually.
For many days and nights of slaughter, the Black Knight watched Death’s every move. At last, the Black Knight’s chance came. Death was sleeping below a tall maple, and all their surroundings were empty of any souls accept theirs and the squirrels’. The Black Knight crept up behind Death and pulled out his dagger.
Death opened his eyes just as the dagger went through his chest. The Black Knight grinned at the shocked look on Death’s face. As the Black Knight stood, pleased with what he had done, Death stood up. He pulled the dagger from his chest and chuckled. The dagger was completely clean, and no gash showed on Death’s chest.
“You thought you could kill me, and you would live forever,” Death said to the Black Knight. “I am Death, therefore I cannot die. You, on the other hand, made a deal with me. As soon as you stopped killing, you would be given your years back to age and die. You have been with me for eighty-four years now.” And with that, Death smiled. The Black Knight began to tremble, because he knew what would come next. His armor began feeling very heavy, as he was aging and weakening by the second. Death smiled, and the Black Knight collapsed. He had tried to be a hero by killing Death, but he had ended up killing himself in the act, leaving Death as the hero in the peasants’ eyes.
Death has lived on ever since. The villages slowly returned to praying for protection from the plague instead of the Black Knight, and Death returned to claiming plague victims. No other knight has ever made a deal with Death. They finally accepted Death as a part of Life.
The Lake
Even though it’s small, the Lake is a community. The same people come all the time to swim out to the dock and build sand castles. In the roped of shallow area, smaller kids play, splash, and squeal. In the deep end, older kinds swim to the dock, throw footballs to their friends on the shore, or have jumping contests. Outside of the roped off swimming area, people young and old fish on the shore, at least in the areas where there’s access to the water’s edge.
About half the shore is full of bushes, weeds, and trees. A quarter of the shore touches the beach where families spread chairs and blankets. Next to the beach is a grassy hill, one of the popular fishing areas.
Behind the beach is the Lake house, which people often rent for parties. Next to the Lake house are some picnic tables and a grill, perfect for the potluck diners often held in Friday evenings. Behind the tables a hill leads down to a baseball field, often used for tag and other popular games, besides the obvious favorite: whiffle ball. There’s also a horseshoes court and a tetherball pole. The tetherball ball is often missing, although it always resurfaces.
The lake holds some great memories. We often come with friends o swim, build rivers in the sand, and play baseball. There was the summer where every day at leats 20 kids would gather in the shallow section to play Jackpot. Many times our cousins and we would order pizza and eat diner at the picnic tables.
Like all places, the Lake also holds some bad memories. I often fought with a close friend when we were kids. Both verbal and physical fighting styles were used at some time or another. There was also the summer the new Willie Wonka movie came out and most of the kids wouldn’t stop singing the songs. That had to be the most irritating summer spent at the Lake.
As the years past, we stopped spending as much time at the Lake. My mom stopped working from home, and drove 40 minutes to work each day instead. I began going to sleep away camps, and so did my brother. Since my mom was working it was my grandmother’s responsibility to drive us everywhere, and she was not a huge fan of the Lake. I also began going out with my friends more, not to mention making sand castles didn’t really appeal to me anymore.
Sitting at the Lake today, I realize not much has changed since I built sand castles and rivers on the beach. There are some decorations now to make the scene prettier, but that’s probably the only change. Children are still splashing and squealing, and as my eyes skim the beach I see the buckets and shovels kids dropped as they ran into the water. The fountain as the Lake’s center still flows, children and parents smile at the fish they’ve caught, and the joy the Lake brings is still evident in kids’ smiles.
About half the shore is full of bushes, weeds, and trees. A quarter of the shore touches the beach where families spread chairs and blankets. Next to the beach is a grassy hill, one of the popular fishing areas.
Behind the beach is the Lake house, which people often rent for parties. Next to the Lake house are some picnic tables and a grill, perfect for the potluck diners often held in Friday evenings. Behind the tables a hill leads down to a baseball field, often used for tag and other popular games, besides the obvious favorite: whiffle ball. There’s also a horseshoes court and a tetherball pole. The tetherball ball is often missing, although it always resurfaces.
The lake holds some great memories. We often come with friends o swim, build rivers in the sand, and play baseball. There was the summer where every day at leats 20 kids would gather in the shallow section to play Jackpot. Many times our cousins and we would order pizza and eat diner at the picnic tables.
Like all places, the Lake also holds some bad memories. I often fought with a close friend when we were kids. Both verbal and physical fighting styles were used at some time or another. There was also the summer the new Willie Wonka movie came out and most of the kids wouldn’t stop singing the songs. That had to be the most irritating summer spent at the Lake.
As the years past, we stopped spending as much time at the Lake. My mom stopped working from home, and drove 40 minutes to work each day instead. I began going to sleep away camps, and so did my brother. Since my mom was working it was my grandmother’s responsibility to drive us everywhere, and she was not a huge fan of the Lake. I also began going out with my friends more, not to mention making sand castles didn’t really appeal to me anymore.
Sitting at the Lake today, I realize not much has changed since I built sand castles and rivers on the beach. There are some decorations now to make the scene prettier, but that’s probably the only change. Children are still splashing and squealing, and as my eyes skim the beach I see the buckets and shovels kids dropped as they ran into the water. The fountain as the Lake’s center still flows, children and parents smile at the fish they’ve caught, and the joy the Lake brings is still evident in kids’ smiles.
