Swords and Mirrors

March 2, 2010

Artie was surprised to see someone up fishing before him. He waved, and the old man sitting on the edge of the dock returned the wave, rod held loosely in his tanned hands. The edges of the old man’s straw hat stuck up like a crown. Artie carefully applied sunscreen to his exposed skin; his wife hated it when he came back sunburned.

The smooth surface of the lake reflected the pale blue of the dawn sky so that Artie felt he was floating within an enormous china bowl. He let his mind drift along with the boat, enjoying the peace of the moment before he baited his hook and cast the line.

As the rising sun touched the edge of the water, a line of light stretched to the center of the lake near where Artie sat. It looked like the blade of a sword, the tip pointed straight at him.

“Go on,” the old man shouted. “It’s for you!”

“What is?” Artie asked, then noticed the sword rising out of the water. He saw his own puzzled expression in its mirrored finish.

“Oh,” he said. “So I’m king then. Jenny will be pleased.”

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2 Responses to “Swords and Mirrors”


  1. Really like this one. You did a great job with the pacing and nonchalant attitude. Course I used to really dig on the King Arthur legend when I was younger. Has a sort of Neil Gaimann edge to it.


  2. Nice! Prose just as smooth as the image it is conveying. Enjoyed this very much.


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