Hey all, I've finally got around to making another short story. This one turned out to be pretty short, but it gets the point across. Unlike my last one, I know for a fact that I'll make more stories similar to this one. Just as a heads up, they won't be set in the same universe; It'll be more of an anthology. Feedback is welcome and appreciated, as always.
A man slowly rode down a dirt path. His exquisite silk tunic blew gently in the wind. Flanking him on either side was a heavily armored man holding a shield, and with a sheathed sword on their side.
Soon after, the small group ride into a decent sized village. All of its inhabitants were serfs, forced to work the land and give most of their earning to the noble who owned the manor. The very same noble who just strolled into town. As he walked down the path, a quickly increasing number of peasants lined up on the side of the road. The noble continued riding until it got to the point that nearly everyone in the village had lined up. At that point, he stopped his horse and turned to them.
“What are you all doing? Get back to work, or I’ll have to make-”
The noble stopped speaking when he realized a few things. First off, every single serf was staring right at him. Secondly, they all had an empty, hollow look. Thirdly, every one of them was chanting in a mysterious language. And lastly, every single one had a weapon of some sort, whether it be a hoe, a knife, or a shovel. Even the children.
The noble started quietly moving forward, and quickly increased his pace, leaving his armed guards behind. However, a crowd of the serfs quickly blocked off the road, and began advancing. The noble turned his horse around, only to realize that it was the same situation on the other side. It wasn’t long before the noble and his guards were pushed back to back, and it wasn’t too long after that when the serfs charged forward, their improvised weapons raised in the air. They all let out a horrid screech, and the guards pulled out their weapons. However, the number of serfs was overwhelming. Both guards were quickly dispatched.
The noble fell back to the ground and started crawling away, but there was nowhere to go. The last thing he saw was a little girl swinging a shovel at his face.
I read the short story you posted and I found it interesting so here are some thoughts.
The title you created was very catchy itself. That's what made me read it in the first place. Well, the beginning was lovely. I believe it was the part i enjoyed most about the whole thing. I loved the way you wrote the first two paragraphs. But that is when it starts becoming a little bit confusing. You start describing the serfs and what they did. I think you should have focused on that part. What was the mysterious language and most importantly, why were they chanting it? Or why did the parents let their kids hold weapons? I realize that it's fantasy and you might wanted to add a bit of mystery to it by not writing what all that stuff was. But it's indeed confusing even to a mystery lover like me. I suggest that you at least just describe the scene more, like their feelings or what expressions the kids had since you are so good at describing, in my opinion at least.
Furthermore, the noble did not do anything extremely awful for a kid to become a murderer. I mean, he just made the serfs give him most of their earnings and work the land. Why would a child kill him for that? The older people woudl be obviously furious but try to kill him?Again, you might wanted to leave it a mystery. Or perhaps it just showed the violence of the era it was set in.The ending was okay but it was a bit abrupt.
Anyways, I loved the vocabulary and as I mentioned above, your way of describing situations is great
I hope you appreciate my thoughts and I also hope I wasn't too judgemental.
Not too judgemental at all, though I think you kind of missed the point. As to avoid any spoilers posted publicly, I can explain it further via PM if you'd like.
Ι don't wanna waste your time but if you could that'd be great.