Daily Prompt: Carry (Miss Mumyeong 미스 무명)

Concert Seats

 

And he saw her, in the middle of a raucous crowd; quietly tinkering with her camera while those around her shouted his name and reached out to him like their next breath depended on it. She was seated close to the stage and he can see, almost feel, how calm she is. So unlike the people surrounding her that she stands out despite her tranquility.  She seemed unperturbed by all the activity and noise around her; quite fascinating. He looked up, smiled, and waved to the rest of the world as was expected of him. He walked a little further, stopping in front of another set of fans and taking notice of all the gifts and paraphernalia they have managed to throw onto the stage. He quickly browsed through the messages that his fans attached to the stuffed toys and paper airplanes that landed at his feet, seeing an amalgamation of ‘I-love-yous’ and wonderful wishes for his career. He smiled for he knew that these messages were sincere. And as he turned a little to his left, eyeing more of the little trinkets, he felt her silent presence.

She was still exactly as he left moments before–still fiddling with her camera and adjusting the lens. Still unconcerned of the goings-on and still in a world of her own.

Peculiar. Endearingly peculiar.

He looked away so he can wave and smile at the crowd some more. There were so many smiling faces in front of him, appearing and disappearing betwixt the flashes of cameras and the movement of the spot light as it followed him across the stage. He then noticed that he wasn’t really walking anymore. He was standing still and lingering in front of her and, for some reason, he wasn’t surprised at all.  He looked up and verbally acknowledged their shouts of love and support, thus earning him more. There’s so many of them and to each, he is forever grateful. He wants to reciprocate their kindness by grazing them with his smile, touching their outstretched hands with the tips of his fingers, or at the very least, looking at them even for a few milliseconds.

And so he smiled, touched, and looked.

Somehow, he managed to smile, touch, and look his way back to the slightly bent figure, who was adjusting the lens of her camera.

And this time, he just looked at her as his grip tightens around the microphone in his right hand.

It’s as if he can’t help but let his eyes gravitate towards her; again and again, until finally, he decides to just stare at her. He saw her angle the lens up and towards him, and thinking that she was going to take a picture, he lifted his left hand and gave her a peace sign. He remained in this pose for a few seconds before he puts down his hand. He squinted his eyes and noticed the surprise that graced her face when she saw what she captured in her camera.

And finally, he saw her look up to him.

He noticed how she bit her bottom lip unconsciously and how she shyly looked away from him again. He noticed how she tucked the stray hairs behind one ear. He noticed, even with the huge gap between them, that she was wearing black-rimmed glasses that compliments her eyes. He noticed her perfectly shaped eyebrows and how her hair was cut to a bob so that it frames her face wonderfully. And he noticed so many more things about her that he feels like reeling from all his observations.

She looks up to him again and this time, she hold his gaze unflinchingly, camera still in her hands. And for the first time–or maybe not for the first time–that night, he wondered how her soft her palms are and how it would feel to have her fingers close around his. Perhaps her camera could tell him. He stares back at her and it felt, for him atleast, that they were caught in a game. Whoever looks away first will lose.

He engraves every bit of her in his mind because that’s all he will ever have of her. He will never know her because life has never been fair.

She is anonymous and nameless, therefore she will be ‘anonymous’ and ‘nameless’.

She will be Mumyeong.

His Mumyeong.

And with one last lingering look, he bids his Mumyeong goodbye and turns away.

 

-FIN-

 

Carry

*Edited: August 17, 2016 , 3:28AM EST

*Photo: Pixabay

 

Daily Prompt: Survival

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“The King has ordered us to Scotland! Tell him to ride with nary but the clothes on his back for we must away ere he finds himself the first amongst the four of us to be held in a donjon*,” shouted his lord, Sir Reginald Fitzurse, whose wine glass has long shattered against a barren stone wall. The knight turned towards his squire and said, “Pack what you need and hastily. I need de Morville informed immediately–de Tracy and le Breton should be with him. The journey should take three days in good weather. Two if you can help it. Now, go! Away with you!”

It has been over a day and a half since he last saw the face of his master, which was twisted in anger and urgency as he gave him his orders. The young squire was to journey to Knaresborough so he can deliver the message himself to Sir Hugh de Morville, Lord of Westmorland and Knaresborough. His lord, Sir de Morville, and two other knights were charged with the murder of Archbishop Bennet. And rightfully so, thought Zuan. None of the four knights made secret of their wrong doing for they claimed to have done it in the name of Henry II.

Five and ten years of age and having been bequeathed the role of a squire a year earlier, Zuan never imagined he would immediately be tasked with a mission such as this. Having fallen under the tutelage of Sir Fitzurse, he had no choice but to follow out of loyalty or be shamed for spitting on the oath he has taken. Either his master and his three brothers-in-arms were misled by the King or their sense and reason simply fled them in an attempt to rid their monarch of a supposed troublesome clergy man; none can say for sure. All Zuan knows is that he must reach Sir de Morville the soonest he can. He’s been riding his horse to the point of exhaustion for the last couple of days but he had no choice. His master gave him direct orders to ride hard and fast, and so he raced the sun and the moon, sparsely stopping and only then to rest his steed.

The sun has long since sunk on the second day of his journey but he dare not stop again. He will push on to Knaresborough and urge the de Morville to come with him. If luck would have it, he would also find Sir William de Tracy and Sir Richard le Breton with the said lord, and be on their way with no further delays. He will persevere and serve his lord knight true.

Zuan leaned further down to the point wherein he can feel the destrier’s mane whipping against his face. When he accepted his lord’s orders, he felt his sense of chivalry shrivel for he is helping in the escape of murderers. But what is chivalry without loyalty and loyalty without brotherhood? Perhaps he was too tired to decipher where one ends and the other begins, or wherefore these two values are set aside for a much higher cause, whether true or imagined.

If he survives long enough to journey with four wanted men and scale the mountains of Scotland while praying that the druids do not take offence for their trespass; maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to think about the worthiness of his choices.

 

Survival

 

*dungeon

*I decided to write a short piece of fiction for today’s “Daily Prompt”. I have been reading a lot of historical romance novels recently and I have taken a liking to the way they are written. Admittedly, I have researched a fair bit before writing this very short story for if go by with what I know, I might end up writing a fan fiction of the books I have read. Forgive any inconsistencies for this is the first time I have written a story of this sort. I am, by no means, an expert in history nor am I a blessed with the wit of published authors. It’s a start though.

*Critiques are welcomed.

*Photo: Pixabay