Flower’s First Night
(Random
2-word prompt- pudding, security)
Flower, it was his first night on the job, ran.
It
wasn’t the best start at protecting the Queen’s tarts, and he’d been warned
about the ants, but he hadn’t expected them to be that big. He prayed that this one was the exception;
one was already too much to handle. Not
that the confectionary gods ever listened to his pleas. Nor any other god.
He’d
dropped his sword as soon as he’d seen the creature. Not on purpose. He just hadn’t expected the thing to crash
through the window like that. It’d given
him a fright. The colourful stained glass
shattered, the dark wooden muntins and stiles folded like paper, and the stones
of the walls shook and cracked. A large
brown oval head, garnished with gigantic snapping blood-red mandibles, burst
into the corridor, followed by a huge thorax and elongated legs.
Flower
had dropped his sword and ran, not realising until he was around the corner
that perhaps the ant’s size was the reason he’d been given a weapon in the
first place. He’d abandoned it, and the
vault of sugary tarts he’d sworn to protect, in favour of his own life. And now the large insect chased him.
He’d expected
monsters to scream, but not this one. It
clicked and clacked, chattering loudly like a pair of rulers being slapped
against skin. It grated his senses. Flower got the impression that it was calling
for others, other ants to join the hunt.
Gods forbid that any more of those insects invaded the castle vaults,
but there was food here, the royal tarts, and he knew ants had the sweetest
tooth.
His boots
thumped against the vibrant carpet that ran the lengths of the halls, and he darted
by paintings of tart ancestors, saccharine portraitures of treats long
forgotten. The bug was wreaking havoc
behind him, destroying priceless artifacts, but he wasn’t here to protect those
trinkets, and he had to keep running.
His breaths laboured, he was exhausted, and the ant was swift. He felt a stitch in his side. He kept running. He sucked in oxygen through the pain and his
sense of smell objected. The ant stank. These passages usually smelled sweet and
freshly baked, but the pungent aroma of the giant ant had consumed the
air. Acidic, like vinegar. Intense.
It made his eyes water.
Flower ran as
fast as he could, the ant close behind, clicking and clacking, snapping and
clapping its mandibles. He tried not to
scream, to waste his breath, for there was salvation ahead. If he could reach the doors, if he was fast
enough, he’d be able to call for help, sound the alarm for the other guards to
tackle the formidable formicidae.
He sprinted,
couldn’t stop. He collided with the
door, it winded him, and the hard carpet caught him as he fell. The door was locked. He’d expected it to open as normal, but it
was firm and resistant.
Flower climbed
to his feet. He wondered for a moment
why the ant hadn’t caught him yet, taken his small and frail body between its
mandibles and severed his top from his bottom.
He faced the monster.
The large ant
towered over him, judging the man with its compound eyes and twitching elbowed
antennae. It was silent, no
chitter-chatter. The creature’s head
tilted to the side; Flower sensed an intelligence there, ancient and deadly.
Flower suddenly
realised that perhaps this monster was not craving the delicious round tarts of
the Queen, with their succulent and sweet fillings encased in rich and flaky
pastry, but it desired the savoury meats and crunchy bones of a short little
guard on his first night on the job.
He considered
banging on the locked door, crying out, but he knew that the giant ant would snatch
him up as soon as he turned his back.
There was only
one thing for it.
He’d fight.
But he needed something
first, and he took a risk.
Flower screamed
and ran. He ducked under the enormous
thorax, weaved between long and dangerous legs, dodged around the bulbous
abdomen and ran and ran and ran as fast as his legs could take him.
He looked
back. The ant thrashed against stone
walls that weren’t wide enough for its enormous bulk as it tried to turn
around, breaking the canvases and ornaments adorning them. Its creepy voice chittered, broke its silence,
and was more urgent, angrier than before.
The ant was furious.
The massive
monster moved forward, away from him, and it’s padded feet gripped the door and
walls in front of it. It climbed up and
over, defying gravity as it reached the ceiling and then traced a spiral path
down the wall and back to the level floor.
It faced him now. Mandibles
snapped the air in triumph, and the chase began again.
Flower had a
decent lead, and he used his advantage to reach the broken window where the
giant ant had first forced its way into the castle. He frantically searched for his sword, found
it amongst broken glass. Yes! He gripped it tight and faced down the
corridor waiting for the inevitable confrontation with the creature.
He gulped down
his fear on a dry throat.
The gigantic
ant neared, jaws ready to munch Flower’s body to dust.
He couldn’t do it.
There was no
way he could battle this huge creature and win, not on his first night of the
job.
Flower scurried
to his left, fumbling for the vault’s keys on his belt. The pungent perfume of the ant was getting
more intense, it’s skittering and chittering louder. It was almost upon him.
He slammed the
key into the vault’s lock, yelling and cursing at the gods about his fate, and
the door to the delicious tarts clicked open just as the insidious insect
reached him.
Flower
screamed.
The
creature reared up, its mandibles snapped a hungry message, and Flower darted
into the vault before he became its dinner.
He
slammed the door, but the ant was quicker.
It pressed its weight against the vault, fighting against his efforts to
get to safety. Flower pushed back, the entrance
ajar, opening and closing as the giant head and jaw tried to squeeze its way in. Flower’s muscles strained. He braced his legs, thighs burning with
effort and his arms laboured against the metal door of the vault.
He
cried out, a crescendoed battle cry to steel his resolve as he forced all his
strength, all his will to live, against the door. The insect countered with its hunger, but Flower’s
need was greater.
The
vault clicked shut and Flower collapsed to his knees.
He
was safe.
He
sighed relief.
The
room was silent. There was no way the
chattering creature was getting in here.
Not through those massive steel doors.
But what next? He was trapped in
here with the beast guarding the only exit.
Flower
stood, and noticed he was no longer able to smell the vinegary stink of the
monster; it’d been replaced by the sweet aroma of what he’d been sworn to
protect. The Queen’s tarts. Their scrumptious and fragrant scent filled
his nostrils, and he was suddenly peckish.
He’d used a lot of his stamina against that humungous monster, and it’d
been several hours since he’d eaten any dinner.
Flower
eyed the stacks and stacks of tarts, hundreds of sweet treats, that filled the
large vault. Just one little cake
wouldn’t do any harm. One dessert.
Oh
yes.
His
mouth salivated.
Flower
reached for the nearest tart. It was
strawberry. His favourite. He took a bite, ignoring the iced lettering
on its surface, but he’d soon know why the Queen had locked up her delicious puddings.
The
letters on the tart read, “Eat me,” and his body already felt bigger. He was expanding and growing after just one
bite. Within moments, he was large
enough to tackle the creature outside.
He
just needed to figure out how to get through the door.
