Beneath the Armor
Today’s flash fiction encouraged me to take some creative risks. I hope it inspires you to do the same, and that your experience ends up being similar to mine. Let's discuss it in the chat!
July Theme: Creative Courage
Big Question: What does it take to begin, risk, and share what you create?
Week 2: Taking Creative Risks
What I wrote below is based on the following creative writing prompt included in yesterday’s Taking Creative Risks: Writing Prompts to Build Creative Courage post.
Prompt: The Version Nobody Has Seen
Write a scene where someone reveals a hidden part of themselves. It could be a secret dream, an unexpected talent, a painful truth, or a side they’ve carefully protected from others.
Why did I choose it?
I chose this prompt because I wanted to push myself to write something I have never written before, thinking that if I uncovered a version of a character no one has seen, maybe I could also do that for myself while writing about them and their secrets or unexpected truths. And luckily, I wasn’t wrong. Choosing this prompt pushed me to uncover and learn a few things about myself and my writing as I was writing about unfamiliar characters and genres way out of my typical comfort zone.
When considering what to write for this prompt, I initially thought of writing about a woman who discovers something her partner or parent is hiding from her, only to wake to find out that it was all a bad dream based on a secret she herself is keeping from them to prevent something abominable from happening. But then I remembered that I was supposed to be challenging myself to write something out of my comfort zone, to take real creative risks, so…
I started thinking about hidden identities and secrets and thought of masks, which led me to think about masquerade balls, which still wasn’t too far out of my comfort zone. So, I kept brainstorming until I ultimately thought of knights who can conceal their identities with helmets and medieval historical fiction that could also be based on folklore and legends, which is definitely not something I typically write about. At all. Yet I was committed to taking a creative risk and really challenging myself this week, so here we are now with the piece of flash fiction that follows…
My Response: Beneath the Armor
The unmistakable clanking sound of metal upon metal woke Robin as the soft dawning light filtered through the scattered boughs overhead. It was followed by a heavy thud on the ground. Another clank. Another thud. And then, a shout.
“Awake! Awake!”
It was noble Sir Edward alerting their company of men to arise and fight, as the remaining three were slumped against a major oak having dozed off.
What fools! Who was to be keeping watch?!
Yet Robin hadn’t a moment longer to fume as an invader’s blade came within a half-digit of a shoulder, trimming a fraction of a golden lock peeking from the helmet’s edge— the fraction Robin preferred no less.
What brutes! What cowards! To attack an order unawares.
“We will never surrender our gold nor souls to you foxy devils of the night!”
Sir Edward was wholly righteous and brave. He would fight to the bitter end for honor, for glory, for—
A swish, then another clank, then a swish, then a thud.
Another of their men, dead, dropped next to Robin’s heel, catapulting bold action.
Robin dodged and parried, unbothered by consequence, slashing a pathway to the men at the tree, hoping not to mistake them for their foe.
“Arise! Arise! Ari—”
Robin’s voice caught as a spurt of invading blood landed on an upturned glove, succeeding the squelch of pedigree’s trusty steel in hand.
The slumbering squire on the left arose at last, after the life Robin took fell at his feet, then removed the browned withered leaf from his lips as he nudged the other squire to his right, who nudged the last slumbering man, a simple, askew knight.
And alas, they were six against… well more than that. But this was no hour to tally bodies, only deathly blows!
As Robin thrust and turned and crouched to prevail against ill-favored odds, the enemy began to take shape in the mocking morning light.
Robin and company were being attacked by a small group of men in woolen tunics with thin hemp belts and weathered hose… peasants’ clothes.
Wait.
Peasants? Who held swords?!
That did not stand to reason!
How did they get such weapons let alone know how to wield them?!
Unless they were robber barons who stole them from corps—
Robin paused, arm up, mid-strike, as the enemy’s crest emerged from the thicket on a well-appareled steed.
Though the enemy’s crest, once in full view, adorned no enemy at all, but Robin’s lord and progenitor’s breed.
“Robin, my fopdoodle,” the gallant upright man sighed, “the time has come to return homeward.”
Robin was frozen stiff, so long that Sir Edward rushed over to intervene, doffing his helmet, now visibly relieved to see a noble man of steel his equal come forth.
“Sir, I beseech your pardon, but you have mistaken identity. This squire is under my behest,” he said, tempering his weapon to his side and broadening his chest.
Robin’s father, fully merry at that, guffawed, then dismounted with a heavy grunt to a stand.
“This squire, I assure you, sir,” he gestured to Robin with a lingering hand, “is one of unfamiliar lineage to you.”
Sir Edward’s countenance swerved from perplexity to dismay, then again rage, as the dismounted man approached him stealthily.
“Beware, you bloodthirsty knave! I will cut your —”
Robin swiftly clutched Sir Edward’s elbow before he could take or receive another blow— a perilous, intimate gesture, more lethal than the crossbow.
“Truth sits upon his lips, Sir Edward,” Robin reluctantly granted.
Sir Edward directed his eyes to the dismounted newcomer who was now before them sheathing his blade, confusion growing on his brow, then turned toward Robin.
“Robin,” the cavalier said, an arm’s length away, “cast down your weapon and reveal your true nature to these gentlemen so no more shall perish. It is time to accept your fate, my child.”
Everything in Robin’s body defied those words wielded like idle weapons to form residual, mortal wounds.
But he was right. No more had to die. Not like this. Not because of… her.
Robin lifted her helmet from her head to unveil her full visage and bearings beneath the armor, knowing her destiny, at last, was nigh. And that Sir Edward would never, from that point forward, be able to grasp the full mettle of her soul’s devotion.
My Reflection
For those of you who write these types of scenes and genres regularly, apologies for any foibles of mine in this attempt! As of now, I am still learning about the nuanced dialogue and diction from this era and genre. But I am certainly interested in reading more fiction with knights in it now, that’s for sure. So, let me know if you have any recommendations in the comments.
I admit, I wasn’t sure how to write this because I know next to nothing about knights or the language they speak. I also never really write fight scenes or action scenes that often. But as I started writing, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just have a bit of fun with it, and so I did! Yes, I would say that writing this piece was a lot of fun. And honestly, I wasn’t expecting that at first, so I’m glad to report that this experience of pushing my creative limits was pleasantly surprising, enjoyable even.
I also confess to looking up a few adages and colloquialisms that were used when knights were alive after I wrote this piece. And that I fell into an amusing digital hole of medieval language from which I recovered with ‘fopdoodle,’ which of course I had to go back and insert into the piece because… why wouldn’t I?
All in all, I might even be interested in seeing some version of this piece expanded into a novel or movie script someday. We shall see! As of now, however, I am still working on other projects. But, in closing, I will acknowledge that I see the potential in what this little piece has riled up.
Tell me what you think in the comments or chat. And please don’t forget to like or share this post if you enjoyed it.
Join the Conversation
Did you complete one of the prompts in yesterday’s Taking Creative Risks: Writing Prompts to Build Creative Courage post?
We’d love to hear what these prompts inspired in you and your writing!
If you’d like to share your responses, ask questions, or connect with other writers, join the conversation in the dedicated Drafters Workshop chat. Whether you’ve written a single paragraph or filled pages, every creative risk is worth celebrating.
We’ll be working on these prompts all weekend and throughout the week ahead, so feel free to come back and join the chat later. We can’t wait to read what you create!
Continue Exploring July’s Creative Courage Theme
This week’s Posts: Taking Creative Risks
Taking Creative Risks: Writing Prompts to Build Creative Courage
Week 1: Beginning Before You Feel Ready
Beginning Before You Feel Ready: Writing Prompts
Do writers need to feel ready before they begin a new project?
Beginnings and endings are linked in a lot of ways…
Why Beginning Feels So Difficult, But Doesn’t Have to Be
Books That Made Me Want to Write and Take Creative Risks
Consider going more in depth with this month’s theme with July’s Creative Courage Writing Collection.
The writing collection is designed to help you explore creative courage from different angles: discovering your voice, strengthening your craft, experimenting with new approaches, and reflecting on the writer you are becoming.
The free Drafts writing prompts posts that will be published every Saturday this month will explore the outward side of creative courage—beginning, risking, and sharing— and should complement this collection quite well, which invites you to go much deeper into the internal work of creativity with 30 guided writing prompts and craft exercises, reflections, as well as three options for guided monthly writing challenges for those who want to go even further than that.