Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: The Pen is Mightier than the Sword (04/08/10)
TITLE: TO THE PEN GOES THE VICTORY
By Sylvia Hensel
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All waited in silence; the battle line was drawn. Men’s minds focused on what lay ahead and not behind. Swords that had tasted blood held high above their wielder’s heads, were ready, eager to once again fulfill their purpose.
What power the sword extruded; the power to insight men to fight to the death. With the feel of the weight, the grace of the swing, the power to inflect death, they caused men to go into battle with a confidence that spelled “victory.” But for whom? The sword had no allegiance to either side or cause, their purpose being fulfilled with the spilling of blood, it didn’t matter whose.
The sword felt invincible. It took pride in its might and power; it felt nothing could surpass it. Once in action, it had the ability to inflict damage to a mortal body, with the potential for all manners destruction if wielded properly.
It seemed it had waited forever for the action to begin. What was holding up the battle? The sword felt the firm grip of its wielder, tension in every muscle, ready for the ensuing fight, yet no one moved. Why? It looked about, everywhere swords were held high ready for duty. The smell of blood in the air caused the sword to urge its wielder to move forward, but to no avail. It wanted to shout, “With me, you hold power in your hands. Together, no one can stop us. MOVE!!” Yet nothing.
It seemed everyone was holding their breath. Something was wrong, but what? The sword with all its strength could not move its wielder; it was forced to wait. Suddenly, with the blare of trumpets, a group of dignitaries road their horses between the opposing sides. A loud voice proclaimed, “Hear ye. Hear ye. Today the king of both armies come together to sign a peace treaty.” With that, a small table and two chairs were produced. A small carpet was laid and the table and chairs were set upon it. The kings dismounted and sat themselves. A young boy, holding a pillow with two pens laid upon it, marched up to the table. With great pomp, each king took a pen in hand, and with a great flourish, signed the document of peace. With that, a command was given from both sides to lower their swords. The sword, loosing its purpose in this battle, conceded victory, and turned his might over to the powerful pen. “Pride goeth before a fall.”
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