Aryan Petal

Boys that grow up too rough in Penfield tend to be taken and never come back. Mother is constantly warning me not to horse around and read a book instead. I always hear her cry in bed and pray to God that I choose to stay home with her. Father died in war when I was just five years old. I don’t have many memories of him. I just have the ones I was told.

I have only experienced life through reading books about Kings, war, and dragons. I’m ready to be selected to fight for our King. It would bring me great pride and honor to have the chance to be brave. My mother doesn’t understand that I want to be those men. I want to be respected.

I went out to fetch some flour at sunrise, when the newspaper carrier tossed me a paper high into the air to deliver to mother. It landed in my hand on the backside where I noticed a column. It was about King Lucius’s army going into town to search for new soldiers sometime this afternoon. Apparently, there’s an enemy’s dragon lurking outside the border at night. They need more men to guard the castle. I quickly tore off the page and dropped the rest of the pages in the puddle.

I turned twelve yesterday, and I’m so far behind my peers in combat training. I can plant crops and sew my pants back together, but I have no idea how to swing a sword without beheading myself or mother. I really wish I had an older brother that could teach me everything he knows.

As I head into the center of the city, I overhear a boy younger than me bragging about killing his first giant with a sling shot. I’m not too sure he’s telling the truth, because it sounds like it’s from a book I have read in the past.

Despite being extremely well-read for a boy in this town, I still can’t help but to feel ill prepared for the real world. I’m a man now, and a man is supposed to protect his mother; I shouldn’t be making soup and watering the garden.

I see the King’s men lined up in front of the fountain. I’m very intimidated. They have muscles and zero expression on their faces. I’m just a boy filled with many stories and facts. I don’t want to get my hopes up. What if they don’t think I’m fit to watch their backs? I wouldn’t even blame them. I’m just a kid…

I walk to the knight with the least terrifying features on the end, but my lips are unable to move to make words. The soldier speaks first with a bass in his voice. “Young man, what do you call yourself?”

I answer him with a stutter. “My father named me Aryan.”

He removes his sword from his waist and plants it into the ground.

“Welcome to the King’s army, Aryan. I’m Patrick.”

Author’s note: Click here to learn more about the challenge.