~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Theme -- Dialogue
Prompt -- Write a conversation between two characters from distinct backgrounds, be it social class (rich/poor), life station (young/old), or vocation (blacksmith/fisherman), and reflect this in their speech.
Challenges --
o Iambic Pentameter: write only dialogue, and in Iambic Pentameter.
o Prejudice: have their different backgrounds create misconceptions which affect how they treat each other.
o Body Language: in the narrative, use body language to add nuance to the dialogue.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The loud smack of wood striking flesh was soon followed by a wail of pain from the young Prince Richard. Sergeant-at-arms Michael Thorn had to force himself to hold back a sigh as he watched the young teen toss his training sword and shield to the ground in a fit.
"How dare you strike me. I am your prince and will be your king one day," Richard shouted, stomping his feet on the ground, little fists balling up at his sides.
If only the young prince could listen, if only he could focus all this bubbling rage inside of him; then Michael would have something to work with. As it was he knew the way the royal brat treated his lessons he would lose in tournaments and die on the battlefield.
"My Prince, the pain is temporary, and you must learn to defend yourself. Pick up your weapon," Michael said, keeping his face passive.
Richard looked up at him, a red flush creeping up from under the collar of the leather armour he wore. With his whole body shaking, he jabbed a finger towards the aging sergeant-at-arms.
"You are my servant and nothing more. I will have you hanged for your belligerence," he shouted stumbling through his words as spit flew from his lips.
As the Prince began to walk away Michael looked up to the balcony overlooking the training yard and was surprised to see the king. The balding man held his heavy robes tight around his form and gave a curt nod before turning and stepping back into the castle.
Despite himself, Michael let a smile cross his features as he stepped forward and swung his sword across the back of the boy prince's legs. Another wail filled the air as Richard fell to the ground.
"You dare?" he angrily shouted from the ground.
"You have turned your back to the enemy, showing yourself a coward and earning a quick death. Now defend yourself," Michael said, but without giving the prince any time to grab the sword and shield he had dropped before slashing down and hitting the boy in the gut.
Another scream accompanied with streaming tears echoed in the yard, but Michael did not let up kicking the prince in the side.
"Tears and wailing will not save you on the battlefield. You are a prince but that does not mean servants and peasants cannot strike you down," Michael said, his blows shifting the sobbing prince across the dusty ground.
Richard could not find the words to shout and curse as he curled up into a ball and tried to protect himself from the harsh kicks, only to receive hard slaps from Michael's sword bruising his flesh even through the armour.
"Stand up. You are a prince, these wailings are beneath you," Michael shouted knowing the brat was long past due for this lesson. A heat burned in his ears and his knuckles went white with the grip on the blade as his boots collided with soft flesh again and again.
Finally Michael stopped and stood back. A bead of sweat ran down his face and he held his sword and shield at his sides.
"You will pay for this. I am your lord, I will have you dead by the morning," Richard wailed between his sobs.
Michael just looked down at the blubbering boy, frowning as he noticed the wetness spreading across the dirt from his crotch. Perhaps now he would have something to work with.
"Your lesson is done for today. I expect to see you tomorrow morning my lord," Michael said, and turning walked away, leaving the prince in the dirt.
