The search for it was on.
It was already noon in the deceitful marshes of Mulleton and the nearby forest of Wickle. Soldiers and thieves, ministers and hermits, the commons and the refined had been digging and foraging the grounds for it. They looked under the trees and inside the burrows, they pulled grasses and shook nests. Furious birds and animals could be seen running helter-skelter for refuge. Three men jumped in the marshes, they were certain they would find it themselves for the king. Three hours on, they were still searching it in the depths of the muck. The sun had been mocking them enough when the clouds decided to intervene, causing an abrupt halt to the search. The mortals took cover under a decrepit shanty and the animals heaved a sigh.
Next day, they continued their search into the village, then the church, and even upturned the dead out of their graves, but they couldn’t find it. Women had started chanting and praying. Prayers always worked. The villagers were certain that the ministers had much more information than them, and so thought the farmers about their owners. Each one hoped that they would find it, and be rewarded by the king. The burly men from the other village decided that they would search in groups and divide the prize. The day was spent in segregations and oath takings. Later in the night, few houses decided to immolate themselves and the entrails of the members of another group went for a walk.
Suspicions ran amok and the men answered with swords. The question was of their faith in finding it and no one else could claim that claim. A bunch of crooks decided to dupe the naive and started shouting about a hermit who knew the whereabouts of it. After three hens and a goat volunteered to become martyrs amidst a mob of hooligans and a half floating hermit, the spirits decided to tell the people that they were the chosen ones to find it and would soon accomplish the task. The glory will soon be theirs. Hence continued the search.
On the sixth day, a man named Abigail came all unawares. When the man was told about the gravity of affairs, he ludicrously mocked them, “but what is ‘IT’?”
Enraged at his insouciance and foolishness; they asked him his religion, his ancestry, and on and on. He was killed, the man’s life was blasphemous after all.
The King smacked the rump of one of his beautiful dancers and called her to his room for some bosom talks. She was a beautiful damsel with a nose upright and eyes that flared fire. In response to the king’s antics, she replied, “ Have you lost it?”
That’s the last we heard from the lady. While the king, his ego hurt and he bamboozled, declared in the court,
“ Find me ‘IT’. Return without it and forever you are lost. But I love you all, the winner will sure have a reward.”
Photo By: Pixabay
This is an entry for Five00-9, #Vintage. Find all the entries here: https://writers.artoonsinn.com/category/five00/five00-9/
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