The Impact of Her (ALL SEASONS)

A kingdom was covered by dark, heavy clouds that carried a millennium’s amount of rain. Along with the loudest thunders, the strongest bolts of lightning stretched across the dim sky. All because of a king and his heir – his only son – lying in bed, currently in a deep sleep. The time for them to regain consciousness? Nobody could say for sure. All the members of the court could do was to bargain with the ancient gods to spare one of them. The queen has been running the kingdom whilst worrying about the state of her family. She knew she was close to losing sanity, but she would remind herself to hold onto it a bit longer. ‘The kingdom cannot afford to lose another appointed ruler,’ she would often tell herself. Her husband and son were already at the brink of death. She couldn’t be swept away by this diplomatic crisis. ~*~*~*~ T’was in the middle of the day – springtime, to be exact – and it has rained continuously for weeks. People lost track of time because they’ve been submer

“Is this a bad time to visit you, little brother?” she asked with a soothing voice as she walked towards me. Her hands were folded together in front of her elaborate skirt that was fashioned with frills that led from the torso, down to the hem of the dress. Elizabeth never failed to dazzle and catch the attention of various men of the court. She never shied away from the glamour of the court. I, on the other hand, was always content on how I presented myself. On a usual day, I would allow my brown, wavy hair to be free as a contrast to the stretched and firm hair that I would wear during a ball. I preferred to wear loose shirts that Mother made over the posh and overdone suits that were needed for special festivities. “There is no such thing as bad timing for my beloved sister,” I walked towards her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as I reached her. “Would you like to join me on the balcony?” I asked as I laid out my hand. She nodded as she clung onto my arm and held my hand with he

Her actions caught me by surprise, rendering me frozen. Questions began to race within my mind. She liked me? In what manner? If she liked me more than a friend, what should I say? Should I pretend that I feel the same, just so I wouldn’t break her heart? Or should I simply acknowledge it, but at the same time, tell her to stop? Mallory was like a sister to me. Breaking her heart would be unthinkable. “Well, I would say that I liked you as well, Mallory,” I said as I hoped that it wouldn’t sound like it had a different meaning to it. “You do?” she asked, her tone showed a hint of hope. I took a deep breath and turned to her. With a smile, I explained, “Of course. We have been friends since we were little. I know who you truly are and you’re a good person.” I continued, “Everyone and anyone would love to have you as their friend.” Her brows furrowed as she heard my answer. “Robert, that is not what I meant,” she said as she walked closer to me. Slowly, her frustration has star

Our conversation was interrupted when an old man came out from the bakery. He walked towards Laura’s direction, and he didn’t show any signs of anger. He was merely confused and perhaps curious. “Oh, Grandpa Ben!” Laura ran up to him and pecked his cheek. “I bought the ingredients you told me,” she said as she showed the basket that was filled with different fruits. “Also, I bumped into someone on my way home,” she added before she pointed in my direction. I took a good look at Grandpa Ben, and he didn’t look like a grandfather at all. True, his hair was grey, and it shone underneath the mild sunlight. His overall appearance, however, was too young to be a grandfather. He wore a humble attire: a white shirt with brown pants, brown suspenders, and finished off with a pair of black shoes. His greyish-white beard was beautifully placed on his chin, and on his chin alone. The rest of his face was clean. I could already tell that this man mattered to Laura by her demeanour. For her to

I turned my head and saw Laura, racing towards me with a basket in her arm. “Here you are,” she said as she handed it over, covered with a plaid basket. “What’s inside of it?” I asked as I received it. “You didn’t get the chance to finish the pie so Grandpa Ben told me to put it in a basket and give it to you,” she smiled. “It’s still fresh and as I can see, only a small bite was made. It will be a waste if we throw it in the trash,” she continued, putting her hands on her waist. “Oh, thank you, Laura, but there’s no need for this,” I replied as I tried to hand the basket back. “I told Grandpa Ben I will try it on my next visit.” “Don’t fight us back, son,” another voice came from the bakery. Grandpa Ben walked towards us and stood behind Laura. He continued, “Take the pie with you. Share it with your family. Who knows? They may like it, too.” “But, Grandpa Ben–” he then put his hand out, blocking my protest. “It’s all right, son. I don’t want to hear any excuses. You will bring