Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PHONE (11/10/16)
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TITLE: Watchman | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gary Ritter
11/14/16 -
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“I see the disgust on your face, my faithful servant. I ask, however, that you restrain yourself in my presence. What is the watchman’s alert?”
“He cautions of trouble to come. Even when the herald is good and uplifting, the watchman tempers it with caveats and negativity.”
“Should we listen to him? You know I value your reasoned advice only minimally less than that of my cupbearer. If he says, ‘Poison!’ and dies, how valuable is that counsel? If you say, ‘Close your ears,’ I likewise will heed your words.”
“I will go, my king, to speak directly with the watchman on his wall. He must understand that so much of what he warns upsets, not only you, but the people as well. We cannot have him sow fear or the kingdom will collapse from dissent. That will never do.”
“By all means, armor-bearer, hasten to the wall.”
In the prime of his life, the armor-bearer scampered up the stairs to the parapet where the watchman spent his days and nights. “Watchman,” he called, “I have come from the king.”
A brilliant blue sky afforded visibility for many miles. The watchman took his eyes from the horizon for a moment to acknowledge his visitor and turned back to scanning the distance. “He is not pleased with my work?” he inquired.
“It is I who have reservations.” The armor-bearer closed the gap between them. “It is right that you signal to bring us news, but too often it fosters fear. I hate hearing the sound of that blasted device. Are the barbarians truly at the gate? Must you force me to continually speak to the king of the terrors that abound in the depths of your imagination?”
“Just because the sun is shining doesn’t mean that dark clouds don’t lurk. Would you prefer the king be blindsided?” He picked up his trumpet. “Should I dash this to the rocks below, abandon my post, and let the invaders have their way?”
“But watchman…” the armor-bearer gazed upon the empty lands before them, “there is nothing to see, no clouds, as you say, no enemy at hand. Your pessimism is not warranted.”
“There is a tale I heard of a kingdom far away. The king and his princes celebrated their fortune, even going so far as to bring out sacred vessels. The God to whom those bowls belonged took umbrage at their sacrilege. He wrote on a wall in their banquet hall that their fate that night was sealed. Invaders came upon them through the underground aqueducts and took over the city, killing the king and his men. Where was the watchman? Was he surveying the landscape and forgetting other areas of vulnerability? Did he not warn that the enemy could attack by other means?”
“What is your point, watchman?”
“Simply that had the king not been so proud and foolish, he might have been prepared. Does God speak to us in only the bad times? Should He not speak also when all looks well? It is said that if a king trusts solely in his armaments—watch out!—for he may soon fall. Will the king heed? Will his advisors, oh armor-bearer?”
“Ach, you speak in riddles.” The armor-bearer spit at the watchman’s feet. “Continue with your task. Blow the horn with every warning. But do not expect me to pass on nonsense to the king.”
The watchman tore his eyes away from the vista before him and bowed. “As you please, my liege.”
Once more before the king, the armor-bearer rose from his knees at the behest of his lord. “What say you from your visit to our fortifications?” the king asked.
Kicking imaginary dust from his feet, the armor-bearer grinned. “No more will I pass on foolishness to you. The watchman has been humbled.”
That night the armor-bearer heard again the watchman’s trumpet. He ignored the clarion tone and drank deeply of the rare wine the king had offered him.
To his surprise he later awoke with a knife to his throat. A man who spoke a strange tongue motioned for him to rise. When he resisted, the knife slid through his flesh. With regret as he gasped for breath, he thought how he’d ignored the trumpet’s call.
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