Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SNAP (05/28/26)
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TITLE: The Last Note | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
06/03/26 -
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Broad shoulders slumped while the silver strands in the king’s beard betrayed the weight that every leader knows. Dark presences slithered just out of sight – were they discrete servants or something sinister waiting a moment of carelessness? Restless eyes cast furtive glances as their owner embraced himself against the chill, groaning the moan of the doomed.
For a moment, his breathing slowed, his chin lowered to his chest, and his eyes closed. Cedar smoke and incense drifted through the space.
The harpist breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps things would be different tonight. His mind moved to pastures where his sheep grazed peacefully on the Judean hills. Those memories fueled his music and stimulated the deep faith that rose from his soul. A new song found its home in his fingers and everything changed.
He could feel it. The heaviness. The chill. The darkness. A lamp wick sizzled and snuffed out. Then another. The strings continued to vibrate as the king’s breathing quickened. The groan returned and a storm spun into life at the throne. The lions of fear and rage awakened from their slumber. Something snapped as clearly as a belt striking a wall.
The squinting eyes of the monarch shifted in panic from shadows to the harpist. “You!” It was a growling accusation. “You! Giant killer. You steal the praise of my women. You imprison the heart of my warriors. You bewitch the loyalty of my own sons.”
Strumming continued. “The victories belong to the Lord and to his people. My heart is only for the Lord and for the king.”
The palms of the king slapped hard on the arms of his throne as he sprang to his feet, pointing at the kneeling harpist. “You’ve warped their minds with your music. ‘Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.’ I hear them sing from here.” The bitterness wrapped itself like a shroud around the throne room.
The chords continued. Steadily. Rhythmically. Hypnotically. Hope. Light. Life fought for space in the shadows. It wasn’t enough. It was like a dry branch had snapped under the boot of a monster.
“Cast your spell on me, you charlatan, will you?” Veins bulged in the king’s neck. Sweat glistened on his brow.” I know you. You want my kingdom.”
The raging tyrant snatched up a javelin and hurled it like a titan against the shrinking figure below. The vicious hiss of the missile swallowed the space between them. The polished bronze tip flashed in the fading lamplight as it sought the heart of the imposter.
Everything slowed as David twisted his body out of the way. The javelin impaled a curtain and clattered helplessly to the marble floor. Before the echo stilled, the targeted one had vanished into the night.
The wooden harp spun alone, splintered, unusable. The king crushed it under his sandal before bending and snapping each of the strings. The sharp twangs echoed through the chamber.
The king stood frozen. Chest heaving. Heart pounding. Fists clenched. Eyes scanning the darkness. “I’m the anointed one,” he declared to the darkness. “I’m the chosen one. The people’s champion. The rightful leader.”
Jealousy curled like a cobra around his heart. Fear snapped his reason. Bitterness poisoned his soul. And still he stood. Monarch over shadows, sizzling lamps, and broken instruments. Insecure. Empty. Alone.
Out there, the usurper would be partnering with the prophet to warp the minds and hearts of the people. What had happened? He stumbled to the window and scanned the starry heavens. Out there was a higher king who called all to account. Who raised up kings, and in the snap of a moment, tore them down.
He stumbled to his bed, twisting among the sheets, strangled by nightmares of betrayers and ungrateful peasants rising up to take what was his. In a moment of lucidity, his mind wrestled to glimpse the light, but there was none.
“Call for the harpist,” he yelled to his servant. “Bring back the music.”
“The harpist is gone,” the servant said. “The music is broken.”
“No! Change it back. Change it back.”
“It’s too late,” the servant said. “The one who governs us all has had his way, and no one can snap his will.”
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The imagery of the scenes really pulled me into the story.