[Wrote this during a prompted free write in Intro to Creative Writing and I thought I'd just throw it up here to show that... you know, I actually do write a little bit. Granted, it's not really been edited beyond that first draft I did in class, but if you're bored give it a read. The prompt was describing a scene from your memory, and then doing it again from the perspective of someone else who was there.]
The performer drew back his longbow with great strength, all the while telling the crowd about the medieval battles fought here in the vast green fields that led up to Windsor Castle. He then let fly, striking a small straw man some yards away. The onlookers, myself included, applauded from under raincoats or umbrellas, the English grey sky showering us with a light afternoon rain.
Once the show was over, my family and I returned to the castle, walking along a rocky footpath with the rest of the former audience who chattered in different languages about what I imagined was their response to the performance. The castle itself seemed less like a fortress and more of a mansion, really. Sure, it had its fair share of towers and buttresses, but the interior felt more like a great manor, hundreds of rooms that were done up to mimic the living environment of old. It certainly smelled old, anyway.
Where the grounds met the castle, there was a small cafe with the tables set out in defiance of the rainy weather. The eatery offered the traditional English fare; pasties, tea and scones, softer serve ice cream with a chocolate flake, and a variety of puddings.
"Anyone hungry?" Dad asked us. Mom passed, but my little sister Lexi looked as though she'd been waiting for this question her whole life.
"Can I have some ice cream, daddy?" She asked, her face glowing with anticipation.
"Of course, sweetheart," was his loving reply.
--
Though perhaps embellishing his tale a bit, this employee had his facts right. The battles he spoke of while swinging around his imitation broadsword and bow and arrow did certainly take place, but what's left out in these damn tourist shows are the cold realities of being a medieval foot-soldier. Nothing glorious about that job, I'll tell you that much.
However, Jeff seemed to be enjoying himself well enough. As a son of two historians, we'd expected some level of interest in the past from him, yet he'd curiously exhibited very little. Perhaps here he had been enjoying the dramatics rather than the history of the performance. No matter, so long as my children are happy, I am happy. Shifting my grip on the umbrella, which I held over the kids to keep them dry, we applauded this actor and walked back up the path towards the castle. There was a garden beyond, with amazingly trimmed hedges and statues of animals, but my stomach was grumbling a bit.
Luckily for me, ahead there was this adorable cafe serving the standard fare, and I imagined I could nab a spot of tea before continuing the tour of this historical location. Granted, I much prefer driving out into the countryside to see ruins of castles that were not renovated for travelers but again, the children must be considered. Besides, the lush green of everything coupled with the pale brown pathway really made for some startling beauty, and the mansion castle ahead would have made a wonderful postcard to send back to my parents.
"Anyone hungry?" I asked, half expecting to be the only one inclined on eating anything. Stephanie, as I'd expected, turned down the offer though Lexi seemed to be expecting the question.
"Can I have some ice cream, daddy?" She asked cheerfully. I wish she would learn to use, "May I?" rather than, "Can." Ah well, we'll get there eventually, she's still young.
"Of course, sweetheart," I replied, grinning. The two of us went into the cafe while Stephanie and Jeff waited outside, content in the rain.
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