Prompt #52: Legend says only he who was fit to rule England could pull the sword from the stone. But the only one who manages to do so is a she.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tweaked the prompt a teeny bit. I changed England to a fictional island called Moneres...
Was I even allowed to bring an ancient sword through customs?
An even better question? Should I proudly display it or hide it somewhere in my one-bedroom apartment back home?
"The sword officially belongs to the country," the head security guard replied, answering my the last mental question. "A number of experts are now examining it at the historical society."
Scooting forward to the edge of my chair and resting an elbow on the desk, I lowered my voice as if I was sharing a well-kept secret. "How long does this charade last? My friend and I are volunteers assigned to help clean up Laudine. Our supervisor is already kinda pissed at us for our drunken mishap. And she's really not happy about us missing work today."
"Charade?"
"The whole sword in the stone myth," I said impatiently, refraining from rolling my eyes. "I can't be the first tourist to breeze through here and accidentally free the sword. Is there some sort of mechanical device inside the stone programmed to loosen the death grip every few months or years?"
Renning furrowed his dark brows and frowned. "You believe this is a gimmick to draw tourists to the islands?"
"Isn't it?" I raised one of my brows to challenge his facial reaction. "I might not know a ton about King Arthur, but I've watched enough movies to know the current royal family can't be descendants of Uther Pendragon."
"You think so?"
I shrugged both shoulders before slumping back into my chair.
"Ms. Copeland, what do you know about the Moneres Islands?"
Absolutely nothing, I thought immediately as my mind wandered back to when Phil first mentioned it about a month ago.
I had moped around for days when I had been let go as a photographer at a local studio due to declining business. Thanks to technology, smart phones, and super easy apps, everyone and their moms believed they were professional photographers. Even though senior sessions, family photos, and weddings packed the studio's schedule to the max for the senior photographers, additional appointments became nonexistent.
I suspected my job was in danger when the junior photographers' hours kept getting cut. Being allowed to come in late or leave a little early had been nice in the beginning, but the novelty wore off whenever I looked at the decreasing numbers on my paycheck.
I had briefly thought about hunting for another job at the time, but my confidence as one of the most experienced junior photographers on staff hid me from reality. My penchant for saving every little penny and the unemployment checks bought me time to find the right job instead of desperately grabbing the first one available.
To cheer me up, Phil suggested taking a vacation, but I vetoed the idea. My savings account sported a healthy balance, but I felt uncomfortable spending it on a tropical destination. Luckily, Phil's parents, who have been lifelong humanitarian aide workers, needed a few extra volunteers for a mission to the Moneres Islands after a strong storm with high winds heavily damaged two of the ten islands.
If someone had offered me a million dollars to correctly point out the islands on the map, I probably would've embarrassingly pointed to Hawaii or the Florida Keys. I would have never guessed the cluster of eleven islands sat between Canada and Ireland in the North Atlantic Ocean.
"Not much," I admitted, stretching out my short legs and noticing a few new rips. Free reminders of our epic crime spree.
"The islands are a well known secret among travelers that don't hesitate to spend extra to feel a bit worldly," Renning explained thoughtfully. "They like to believe they're more cultured when they've visited a place most never even heard of. The views. The adventures. The food. The experience of the islands are just as memorable as any other destination."
Unsure how to respond, I simply nodded and hoped he'd get to the point because my twin-sized bed back in the hotel was shouting my name.
"Do you believe in magic?" he asked, leaning forward and setting his elbows on the desk.
"I'm not stealthy enough to be a magician," I admitted, wrinkling my nose in disappointment. "I think my hands are too small to try the whole slight of hand thing. But I think magicians are incredibly talented and highly entertaining."
"I agree great ones are equally entertaining, but they also frustrate me. Because I believe in science and hard facts and truths. I believe there has to be some sort of explanation even for the extraordinary."
"Sounds reasonable."
"Ms. Copeland, the sword has been stuck in the stone ever since the island was discovered sometime in the ninth century. Despite the most famed tale of King Arthur, many historians throughout the years don't believe this sword has anything to do with him," Renning continued calmly as my stomach fluttered with a sense of apprehension. "For all they know, it could've been some random sword cemented in a rock. But early rulers didn't stop anyone from saying otherwise, and so, the legend sort of attached itself to the sword.
"I was born here, attended college in the United States, and returned to work for the royal family. I've seen the strongest of men take their turn. I've seen the best tools – the best construction equipment – in the world try to break through the stone only to be damaged or destroyed. I've seen men of God clutching rosaries and the Bible anointing men to give them strength."
The flutters in my stomach intensified as he meticulously described each unbelievable example.
"Scientists. Historians. Other intelligent experts. None of them could explain why the stone could not be moved by man or machine. Even though the belief in magic grew stronger among the people on the island with every epic fail, I still had no reason to believe. Until now."
I held my breath as his somber stare maintained my attention.
Either this guy was telling the truth or he was the world's best actor. Sorry, Jason Statham.
I desperately wanted to look away and drag Phil out of the station as humanly possible, but the curious cat inside me commanded I stay for the rest of the story.
"Somehow a tiny American girl says she accidentally plucked out the sword," Renning said, emphasizing the word "accidentally".
"One, thank you for calling me tiny," I said, sitting up a little straighter. Even though I was born in the United States to Korean parents, I was rightfully an American citizen but identified more as Asian-American and described myself as a short cute Korean girl. "Two, it was a freakin' accident. My best friend basically tossed me over the stone."
His dark brown eyes twinkled at me with amusement as his lips formed a self-assured smirk. "Oh, I know. I saw the footage."
Wait! What? My eyes widened in sheer terror and my heart took off for the marathon finish line at the thought of anyone else watching my less than stellar parkour move.
My hysterical shriek resonated throughout the open space, causing Phil and the two security guards to whip their heads in my direction in a state of panic. "What footage?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
