Naples Florida Weekly
Loading...

Gator gets writers going for second round of competition

WRITING CHALLENGE


 

 

Round two of Florida Weekly’s Writing Challenge has already begun receiving submissions by our growing talent pool of amateur authors. Two winners of the challenge will receive a ticket each to the Sanibel Island Writers Conference Nov. 5-8.

This week’s selection is from Scott Collier from Port Charlotte. It is inspired by the photo of the alligator.

Now, it’s your turn. We’d like you to use the photo shown here as a starting point for your creative process. Come up with a narrative work of fiction of 1,500 words or less. There is no minimum length. No poems, please. Florida Weekly will accept your original stories in Word format or pasted into the body of an email until midnight, Saturday, Sept. 19. There will be more photo prompts in the weeks to come. Previous entrants are welcome to submit again.

Email your stories to writing@floridaweekly.com and we will print the best submissions. No “snail mail” copies will be accepted. Be sure to include your name, address and contact information with your submission. The earlier we receive your submission, the better your shot at being printed.

For more information on the Sanibel Island Writers Conference, visit fgcu.edu/siwc.

Thanks for writing, and good luck. ¦

Tales of the Animal Kingdom: Sir Max and the Dragon

By Scott Collier, Port Charlotte

“That’s the biggest gecko I’ve ever seen!” Buddy sat beside his father in the middle of the road, gawking with astonishment at the large alligator sprawled out on the grassy shoulder down the way.

“Sorry, son, but that’s not a gecko.” Max muffled a laugh and then turned to his left where Butch, their next-door neighbor, had just plopped himself down to join them. “Well, Butch? Care to hazard a guess?”

“Ohhhh, I surmise,” began Butch in his plaintive mezzo-soprano, “that we are being visited presently by a Dinosaur.” Butch snorted smugly and proceeded to probe the inside of his ear with his nail. Next, he drew it out and examined it for the source of his recent discomfiture.

“Dinosaur?” Max questioned. “Where did you learn such an impressive word, Butch?”

“You know, Max,” Butch responded indignantly, “you don’t give me enough credit sometimes. It just so happens that little Jimmy’s got a whole collection of those things in miniature in his bedroom. They’re not alive like that one down yonder, mind you. His are plastic. He calls them ‘Dinosaurs.’ Ohhhh, he plays with them sometimes and makes them growl at each other and such.” Butch paused briefly and appeared pensive. “I wonder about that kid.”

Max huffed disdainfully at his friend’s foolishness. Seated there between his companions on the road, he towered head and withers over them. Now, he assumed every inch of authority his brawny stature entitled him to. Max knew exactly what the creature was lying stock-still only a tennisball toss away. He straightened and puffed out his chest, declaiming:

“That, boys, is a Dragon. And I’m going to slay it.”

“Whaaaaaat?” Butch abruptly ceased smelling his toenail, his foot frozen in midair. He cocked his head incredulously. “What the heck are you talking about, Max? Ain’t nobody slaying no Dinosaur…”

“Dragon, Butch. Dragon.” Max suddenly had become very solemn. His indefatigable son and indolent neighbor both looked up at him with surprise. “I have to save her,” he added.

Buddy began to tremble with excitement. There was adventure at hand — he could feel it. His long tail wagged with such alacrity that he nearly toppled over. “Save who, Pop?” he inquired.

“Princess Lizzy, of course,” Max replied.

Max turned to look proudly upon his pup. Buddy had his mother’s coloring, to be sure. There was every evidence, however, that he would grow up to be as big and strong as his old man. His oversized paws would one day bear the heft they seemingly were prefabricated to support. Max himself tipped the scales at over 130 pounds, and he was going to need every ounce today to vanquish his scaly foe.

“Your scaly foe? What the heck’s gotten into you, you crazy mutt?” Butch was quickly becoming anxious at the prospect of being drawn into some half-baked daredevilry. He could sense the window of egress rapidly closing. He attempted to stand up, but Max’s heavy paw pinned his tail to the asphalt.

“Sit,” Max said, sticking his enormous black nose in Butch’s scruffy little face. “Stay… Or I’ll tell Annabelle that when the fur started flying, you tucked tail and ran and…”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Butch protested. Annabelle was the finest thing on four legs this side of the creek. Butch had been serenading her regularly with original songs and poems for nearly two years. He was confident things were about to move to the next level any week now.

Max smiled down at his diminutive companion. “Wouldn’t I?” he threatened.

Beta Butch looked up wide-eyed at Alpha Max. He resigned himself, now turning to perceive the dark, brooding monster lying prone along the roadside up ahead.

“Ah, heck,” he conceded. “I’m gonna die a virgin.”

Buddy, who had begun spinning in circles with enthusiasm, suddenly came bounding over and crashed between the two of them. “What’s a virgin, Butch?” he asked, panting.

“Never mind that,” said Max. “Now listen up, both of you…”

Max proceeded to relate to them the story that Princess Lizzy had read to him only a few nights before. Her mother had tucked her into bed and turned off the lamp, but Max waited patiently in the hallway outside her bedroom. The door was left slightly ajar, and he peered through the narrow opening into the pinkish darkness. Then, as usual, her little flashlight flicked on, his cue to nudge into the room and jump up onto the bed.

She slid open the drawer of her nightstand and took out a dainty, silver tiara, nestling it securely in her curly tresses. She had a new book to read to him that night, glossy and colorful and replete with the most wonderful pictures yet. The story was as riveting as the illustrations, and they were both rendered sleepless by a fantastical kingdom ruefully oppressed by an odious Dragon. Max rested his chin on her lap as she revealed one glorious page after another. Her light moved across and down with increasing celerity. Her hushed voice filled the air all around them with a joyous expectancy.

The ending, thankfully, was happy. The brave knight slew the nasty Dragon and liberated the beleaguered townspeople. More importantly, he rescued the kidnapped princess and won her favor. Princess Lizzy sighed contentedly as she closed the back cover. Max looked up at her. She took her finger and whimsically tapped him on the top of his head.

“I dub thee Sir Max, knight of the realm and protector of the innocent!” she proclaimed in a whisper. Then, she doffed her tiara and carefully stowed it away. Princess Lizzy slipped under the covers and fell fast asleep, her champion curled up warmly at her feet, keeping a very drowsy vigil.

“I’m the what, now?” Butch asked.

“The troubadour,” Max repeated. “He’s the one who sings the story of how the knight vanquished the Dragon and saved the princess and so forth.”

“That’s it? Well, heck!” Butch exclaimed with relief. “I can see everything just fine from way over here, thank you very much. You go on ahead if you want and tussle with that ugly fiend down yonder. Good luck, you crazy mutt!” Max grimaced down at Butch.

“Who do I get to be, Pop?” interrupted Buddy, breathlessly. His puppy heart was about to burst with blissfulness.

“You get to be my squire, Buddy. That’s what the knight’s assistant is called,” answered Max. “And your first task, my devoted servant, is to bring me my lance!”

“Oh boy!” Buddy shrieked with exultation. “One lance, coming right up!” He spun a few circles and then took off down the road, only to turn around immediately and come running straight back again. “What’s a lance, Pop?” he asked.

“It’s a really big stick, Buddy,” Max replied, bemused. His puppy page took off again down the road at full speed. “As big and as long as you can carry!” he shouted after him, feeling exhilarated now as the moment of truth fast approached.

Buddy immediately spied the perfect spear for his sire. Yesterday’s rainstorm had caused a reasonably straight, 6-foot-long branch to break off a towering pine tree crowding the road. He found it lying partially submerged in the water-swollen swale. Buddy’s wiry legs burned as he hauled the limb up and onto the road. The encumbered squire stumbled back to his knight, dragging the handsome lance behind him down the pavement.

“Good boy!” praised Max, and he gave Buddy an approving lick. Then, he examined his weapon carefully. At the thicker end was a stubby offshoot, and Max gripped that in his teeth and lifted the well-balanced branch easily off the road. After some jostling and orienting, Max suddenly found himself staring down the length of his lance, pointed directly at his languid, overconfident enemy. He would countenance this outrage not a moment longer.

How dare a Dragon slither into this fair land and menace these good people! How dare it threaten the sweet and benignant Princess Lizzy! Enough of this madness!

Sir Max growled contemptuously despite a mouthful of sappy pine bark. Buddy’s flailing tail abruptly slowed to a standstill as the realization of imminent danger finally crept in. Butch prepared to bear witness to what he could only hope would provide a happy ending to his ballad.

“Charge!!!” garbled Sir Max, and he hurled himself headlong at the sunbathing abomination on the side of the road.

Meanwhile, the alligator roused itself and unclapped its long, toothy jaws. It rose and hissed petulantly at the onrushing antagonist. The challenge, it would seem, was accepted.

Butch the Bard is frequently called upon to recite “The Tale of Sir Max and the Dragon.” He gladly obliges, so long as Max is out of earshot. The concluding lines of his inspired poem run thus:

And so, Sir Max beat a hasty retreat, For more than his match our hero did meet. The victor here was not Dog but Dragon, Though Max escaped with half his tail wag gin’! ¦


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *