Skip to main content

Chepooka, a LISPA piece

Final solo presentation piece:

My name is Rupert, messenger son of Robert, of House Penkiller to the kingdom of Mile End. Bearing urgent news to King William of the neighbouring allied kingdom of Stratford, me and my more hesitant companion, Ser Alan Parrish, were attacked in the woods by armed bandits of the notorious Three Mills clan.
Alan: Rupert, will you shut up? The tribesmen in these vast woods might hear you.
Rupert: If I’m going to die, I might as well die with a song in my heart, Alan.
Alan: I should just take your food and leave you here.
Rupert: I’ll starve most likely.
Alan: You don’t think I’d do it, don’t you?
Rupert: What do you want, Alan? Gold? Women? Gold and women? Stick with me and you’ll have them all for as long as I’m around and not a moment longer. But you knew that. That is why you so valiantly took up arms to defend my honour.
Alan: Fair enough. But don’t go looking for me to bend the knee and will lower you every time you take a shit. I’m not your shield and I’m not your friend.
Rupert: Too bad, I would have treasured your friendship. And if the day comes that you will sell me out, know this. Whatever the price, I’ll pay double. I like living and I intend to do just that.

We marched onwards until the end of day. We had to make camp in the middle of nowhere. Alan had to hunt beasts for food while I catch forty winks on the rough floor of the forest earth. I was awakened shortly after by Alan’s nervous whispering of my name.

Alan: Rupert! Rupert, wake up!
Rupert: Come, share our fire! Help yourselves to our meat!
Clan Leader: When you meet your gods, tell them Peter Shepherd, son of Judy Shepherd, of the Three Mills, sent you.
Rupert: I am Rupert, son of Robert, of House Penkiller.
Peter: How would you like to die, Rupert, son of Robert?
Rupert: In my own bed. At the age of 80. With a belly full of wine and a girl’s mouth around my cock.
Peter: Take the jester and kill the other one.

We were on a dire disadvantage, me and Alan. I knew I had to do something if we were to survive. I had to break free from the shackles that prohibit me my full potential. I have a secret that only a few know. I am left with little choice but to use it. I have with me the sigil of Tesco. The same sigil that hangs around my neck. Crafted by the great, white sorcerer, Ilan, during the War of the Old Kings, it is used to harness one’s inner potentials. In order to release that insurmountable power held within, I must sacrifice and embrace the decimation of life around me. I have no choice. I have no choice.


The sigil was burning hot like fire.


I woke up to the smell of burning flesh. I open my eyes to the wake of destruction that even generations yet unborn would cry out in anguish. Ser Alan himself was a victim of circumstance. Our companionship may have been short-lived but he will live on in memory. Left with but an ounce of energy, I persistently moved on and was able to reach the Regal Opera Houses in Stratford in time to have an immediate audience with the king.

William: I see you’ve already made quick use of what was left of your talents with the sigil of Tesco.

The king was a flambouyant man and one could easily question his sexuality, but none have ever had the audacity to confront him about it.

Rupert: Yes, Your Highness. But I only did what was necessary.
William: We could have used it. But very well, let’s just carry on. I believe you have something to impart.
Rupert: I bring to you the prophecy of Verwirrung.
William: Speak.

Popular posts from this blog

Snippet: In her darkest days, Elaine (worldbuilding), unfinished

Voices of strange busybodies could be heard on the other side of the edifice. Elaine reckoned she recognised one of them. An old friend. Perhaps not necessarily a friend, or not technically a friend. A friend is a rare commodity for her these days. She could walk right past them and not blink an eye, but Elaine waited for a little bit more until the lot toned down. Having a group of opposites around her, poking her skin through their eyes, meticulously making sure she was an enabler who to them an abundant source of entertainment, was all the reason needed to convince herself to back away from the complexity of it all. Home is an awful lot more awful than this place though, Elaine thought, as she gripped her handbag tightly, hoping the ray of darkness from the moon would envelope her and shield her from the attention of the lonesome trail.
"This would not have happened had you only listened to me, Elaine," complained Darco. "Half the people out there would skin us both…


Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Me: Things that have happened to other people are happening in mine, the worst truly has come and not a moment too soon

My important wishes always happen to fall on deaf ears, and now something really, really bad (that has already happened before) is happening to me again. Beneath all the charade of misleading coulrotic bliss is a sad sap of a man merely wanting a bit of trust from everyone around him. Yesterday's news was Mioseon all over again, and it has drained me of all strength. The worst really has come, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.
So it goes without saying that the biggest tragedy I have ever undergone in my life is fighting for the life of my child whose face I will never see. The most perplexing event was having to beg over and over unknowingly oblivious to the fact that my words carry no weight at all. Mioseon had trapped me into a corner and made me complicit to a sin I tried very hard to disavow. Regardless, she had found a way, and judging from that experience, Miriam herself will submit me to the same torture all over again, guilty by association.
For some reason this wa…