Ever-After

Once upon a time, there was a Black Knight. The sworn protector of Evinglade. As a boy, he was strong, courageous, and many considered him quite handsome. His subjects, be they magic or human, sought his guidance and help with their day-to-day matters, especially, their homework. But he now, faced his most dangerous foe yet, the Monster of the Wardrobe. Preparing himself with, Magisterio, his trusty wand, he waited for the cover of darkness for his mission to begin.

“Goodnight, Matthew.” With a kiss on the forehead and a whisper, The Queen retreats from the Black Knight’s bed side and extinguishes the lamp nearby the door. Darkness falls over the room, but the fire of his heart illuminates his vision. Throwing aside his royal blankie aside and fastening it around his neck alike a cape. He inches towards the Dark Wardrobe, the lair of the fable beast. Shadows billow out from its crevices.

“Face me, creature!” He yells, then corrects himself to a whisper--the subjects of the kingdom were asleep. With his wand raised, the knight inches towards the Dark space and whisks it open. The creature raises a talons hand, towering above him high in the air. It’s gargantuan shadow spreads over the carpet beneath it. Alas, the terror of the creature was no match for the golden heart of the knight. And with a swing of his wand, the creature vanishes in a swirl of dark smoke.

A knock at the door. “Matthew?” The door opens and King Kota enters. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

The King discovers him asleep on his royal throne. He snores loud and he escapes as soon as he had entered. For the scribes of the land wrote fairytales of his slumbering drone which would fool the smartest in the kingdom. Finally safe from the beast, the kingdom could experience the dawn of a new day.

—

Matthew’s locker clangs shut. Clutching his books, he inches towards 4B, his home-room class. People stampede passed him on either side, joking and gufawing—he’s suddenly thrown into a locker. His notes & textbooks fan onto the tile floor; he scrambles to pick them up.

“Loser,” the laughter deafens his senses.

“Screw off! Animals...I’m sorry about them.” Says a voice in his ear. It’s her. Melanie Green, the girl that’s never left his mind since they said hello during fresh-man orientation. ”Testosterone just pours out of their ears here.” She hands him his yellowing black notebook. Matthew takes it, gingerly.

“Th-thanks.” He chokes up a bit, as per usual.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It happens more than you think.” Matthew’s eyes trail the ground for a moment. Just make eye contact, son. His father’s words ring through his ears. He tries, but he can barely last a second. The azure blue of her eyes pierces through him like lightning.

“Well, don’t mind them okay?” She says. Why does this have to be just like the movies.

“Yeah, I’ll try. ” Matthew’s heart paces at break-neck speed. Suddenly, they’re walking together.

“I notice you write a lot in that thing.” She points to his notebook. Matthews shocked, how would she know?

“Yeah, I uh-I like to write sometimes. Clears my head, helps me deal with stuff.”

“Maybe you could, read some of it to me...sometime.” Matthew would notice her blushing if his gaze ever left the scratched tile beneath them.

“It’s a little rough, so I don’t know,” Matthew wipes away the sweat collecting on his upper lip.

“I’m sure its great; anyway, I’ll...see you in there?” In a heartbeat, Matthew finds himself at the door to their home-room. Life continues. Matthew nods, stops to catch his breath against the lockers, and hurries into the class room. He huddles over towards his usual desk, hops over the outstretched leg of James like clock-work, and maneuvers his way into the corner of the room. He finds his usual desk, still covered in the amateur graffiti he scribbled down a few days prior.

His teacher begins,”Okay class! Settle down, settle down, phones away.” People find their seats. Matthew retrieves his black notebook and turns to a blank page. He stares over at Melanie, observing how the sunlight glints off her dark hair.

Once upon a time, in the midst of the battle for Denaten Valley, the Black Knight was struck a fierce blow by the Ball Goblins, a miscreant band of grotesque swamp trolls from the Far Reach. As they shook their scimitars in victory, eager to destroy the Black Knight: the protector of peace and joy in the kingdom, a shrill battle horn blares over the Dark Glade. An iridescent knight with azure eyes, galloping on a pale steed thunders into view. Clutching their golden lance, the knight’s very presence eludes terror into the Ball Goblins. They skitter off into the brush, leaving the Black Knight alone with his saviour.

“Thank you, fair knight! May I know the name of my saviour?” Declares the Black Knight.

The knight unclasps and removes their helmet. Hair as black as midnight cascades upon the elven scripture across the chest-plate of her armor. The moonlight glints off her fair complexion and reveals her features. Not even the marbled statues of Tentro, the Kingdom’s finest artisan, could weave such artistry in all of the realm of Evinglade.

“My name is—”

“Matthew...Matthew!”

Matthew snaps out of his trance to see Mr. Donato, scowling at him from the front of the class.

“Stay with us, alright?” Snickers erupt from around the room.

“Yes, Mr. Donato. Sorry, Mr. Donato.” He lowers his gaze, avoiding the burning glares of his classmates.

—

“Matthew...I just want you to keep your options open. There are plenty of other amazing black colleges close to home.” His mother, now graying, gracefully, as she always said, leans in the doorway of his bedroom.

“I know, I know.” Matthew sighs.

“It’s just...out of our budget, right now.”

Matthew’s fingers type furiously, scouring the web for anything that could help him. Suddenly, he stares at the dark pixels dictating the only option he has left.

“Wait! I think I found something. Look!” his mother reads over his shoulder.

“That’s a lot of money.”

“I just need to write an essay about...what inspires me.” Matthew sighs, frustrated. “I don’t know. What’s good enough?”

“You.”

“I appreciate the words of confidence, ma’, but i’m serious.”

His mother ponders for a second. “What about your father?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want pity to be the first thing they feel about me.”

“Honey. They’ll love you for you, no matter what. Did I tell you how I met your father?”

“Thousands of times.”

“Well then you wouldn’t mind me telling you again,” she sits down onto Matthew’s bed. “Your father, was at every home-coming game. And he wasn’t lying when he told me that either. I don’t know if I ever told you this…”

“He was always the loudest in the crowd….” Matthew recites.

“Now, I had the misfortune of sitting right behind him during The Denver Beetles game. He spilled his entire beer on me during the half-time show.” She stifles a giggle. “He spent the next two years apologizing to me, I couldn’t turn a corner without hearing his voice.” She takes a breath. “Eventually, I didn’t want too. We got married pretty soon after that, and along came you.” She squeezes his cheek.

“Mom, stop.” She relents, only a for second, before embracing him in a warm hug.

“I miss him.” Matthew says.

“I miss him too, honey.”

“And, besides,” she continues to pinch his cheek, he tries to brush her off, but she won’t let him. “I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to know that they’d be handing ‘twenty-k’ to a legacy.”

“Maybe.”

“I believe in you, and you should too.” She heads for the door.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Anytime, baby.” She gently closes his bedroom door on her way out. Matthew taps his pen against his desk. He reaches into a drawer and unwraps a little black notebook.

At a time, I wished was not so long ago, My father was my biggest fan...

—

The weight of the frayed manuscript laden between Matthew’s hands was unyielding, nearly impossible to hold without suffering under its presence. He understood that it would never be finished, he would consistently wake in the early hours of the morning in cold sweats, racing to his drafting table and scribbling away. As always, he was nursed back to his hard-wrought sense of calm by his wife, her eyes shrouded by the sea of black sprouting from her scalp and extending to her shoulders, the same as when they met so many years ago. Yet, the work must be published. It must be read and absorbed by those like him. It was not for him, this tale. A tale of a boy, who became a man, and taught his own son to fight for his future, to believe in himself when others wouldn’t. A tale for those after him who had whisked through life without the booming voice and the gentle hand of their father—yet still yearned for it. For the men who stroved to be models of men for the youth, alike their ancestors; despite their names, and heritage being lost to the sea of time.

Matthew’s roused from his crippling stream of consciousness, by a small hand.

“Dad?” Matthew stares into the gleaming eyes of his first born, Kota.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I think there’s a monster in my closet.” Matthew gasps and leaps from his seat.

“We must vanquish this foe, young knight--” A voice from the other room chimes in.

“Can we save Evinglade for the morning? Mommy has a very important meeting tomorrow.”

“Sorry!” They say in rehearsed unison. Matthew kneels to his son and winks.

He clears his throat and whispers in his rehearsed regal voice: “Will you accept my assistance in this grand quest, Kota, the Black Squire of the Evinglade.”

His son races off, bare feet padding against the hardwood. Matthew waits patiently, smiling ear-to-ear. Kota returns, draped in a bright blanket and clutching a wooden spatula.

“Let’s-” Kota lowers his voice once he sees his father’s furled brow, ”let’s get him!”

“Onward!” And they race off further into the house. Matthew slows down as he passes the master bedroom, where his Queen sleeps. His hand grazes the framed photograph of he and his parents, smiling to the camera. He continues along the wall of photographs, Melanie flashes a grin through the wooden cut-out of shining armour. Matthew, a damsel in distress stuck in the tallest of towers, stares down at his knight. He hurries after Kota, leaving the diploma he received from his father’s alma mater behind him. When he received the scholarship, he felt his father was there with him, pulling a few strings.

Long after their intrepid battle, the closet was shut firmly, the ‘evil’ dwelling inside, now far from the safety of the blankets and sheets Kota had nestled himself in. With the lights and curtains drawn; toys from fantastical lands strewn about; nearly finished castles formed with building blocks; Matthew basks in this moment, staring at his son and the world they’ve all created together as a family. Without a second thought, Matthew retrieves a little black book from his desk. Almost exact, to the one he had fallen in love with as a child, and places it on Kota’s dresser. There was to be a new Black Knight to protect Evinglade. One, much more worthy than he.

The End.