Story a day: 6.15.16

I ate gruel today. I eat gruel every day.

But today, the formless slop, the leavings of the soldiers’ meals, tasted as sweet as warm bread and honey.

I ate my gruel with a smile. Then, I pocketed my spoon and rose from my place in the dirt. I clutched the hidden spoon as I walked toward the king’s own tent. No one noticed me. No one ever noticed the captives. We were fodder, nothing more.

Not today.

I rushed at the king’s tent before any of them could react, raising the spoon that would dethrone  him.


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