Story-Time: The Farm Haven
Based on a writing prompt I saw online. Please be aware this short story contains: violence, murder, and mentions of gore.
When two people fall in love, all should be well right? But what if those two people were say, a chosen one and the dreadful dark lord? Can they actually subvert the prophecy and live their life together?*
Disclaimer: The aforementioned prophecy isn’t written in this story, but is briefly mentioned. This post also contains an ad for a giveaway I’m running, but more on that later.
Also, before we dive into this short story, there’s some things I want to mention. First, I want to try and do more of this type of content in the future, and I would love any and all feedback regarding that.
And based on interest, I’d like to turn some of these short stories into recurring mini-series here on the blog— though any new entries would be locked behind a “paid subscriber” paywall. So, if that’s something you don’t mind and would like, let me know!
And lastly, here’s the writing prompt this story is based on:
And let’s dive in.
“Does anyone know?” The once dark lord, whose name was Dray, asked as he stood over some tulips he planted recently. His broad frame looked out of place in the middle of a farmstead, but I adored it. Him knowing this, flaunted constantly, tempting fate to see if he could get me to blush. And of course, even if he wasn’t trying, I couldn’t help the heat rushing to my face anyway. “Daydreaming again?” He asks, suddenly next to me, and causing me to jump in surprise. When he finally had my attention, he grabbed my hand and laced his fingers into mine. Nodding emphatically, I respond with slight embarrassment: “M- me? No, of course not–” I was cut off by the pressure of his hands wrapping around my frame, softly but firmly, and holding me close to his chest. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” He laughs. I bury my face deeper into his chest to try and hide the burning redness of my cheeks. But that only makes him laugh more, though I don’t mind. It’s a gentle laugh.
After he finally releases me from the hug (and way too soon in my opinion), he stares into my eyes. His gaze pierced, as if they were searching me for something. I tried my best to keep a straight, un-amused look, but it was to no avail. His smile, ever so large, grew even more. Then, he gives me a kiss on the forehead– something so simple, but more than enough to send shock-waves through my body. My lips linger, quivering slightly as I wait to be kissed again, but it never comes. He pulls back, and waits for me to recover. Then finally, when my head is no longer spinning from the kiss, he repeats himself: “Does anyone know?” The question is uncomfortable, and it forces me to straighten myself. And as I think about how to answer, a small but rough breeze wafts through the air, distracting me. “I don’t think so…” I say, frowning with uncertainty. “Why do you ask?” It had been months since the great conflict. The former Dark Lord promised to take over the land of Fairen, and me pledging to stop him. Though during its climax, it all turned out to be a ruse. The Dark Lord never wanted land, nor power, nor control. Just a misunderstood person, who also happened to have poor communication skills and a crush on me. Some would think a crush wouldn’t be enough to make up for all the lives lost. However, my feelings for him during that journey had grown significantly, though I never understood why. After careful deliberation, we’d decided there was only one way to end the conflict. We’d fake our deaths and go away from everyone else. And magic was an amazing way to cover our tracks, or so we thought. For a split second, his smile wavered. “Cher has heard rumors.” “Rumors?” I look at him confused. “We covered our tracks right? So there shouldn’t be any rumblings.”
If people were talking about what happened, then it was only a matter of time before people would come searching. Our farm was located in an once-said-to-be uninhabitable corner of the kingdom. However, we'd found it to be not so. And occasionally, we did get lone stragglers popping up here and there. Though they never posed an issue.
It was also how we found Cher– a young child who’d been abandoned by their parents. We were both amazed and dismayed by the fact the kid made it all the way here. Especially since they arrived, bloodied, scarred, and starved.
And to both of our surprise, Cher also recovered fast from their fatigued state. In a matter of weeks, Cher was healthy and well-fed. The bruises and scars the kid once carried healed and faded completely, something unnatural to most.
Not just that though, the kid was quick and agile, easily walking as fast as I could run. It was impressive, but I think I was the only one surprised by it. Dray explained to me that some people were born with unique gifts. But I still don’t quite understand the full extent of it.
“Think about it this way,” He said one day while we were tending to the cows. “You sing beautifully, and your voice has always been so touching. That’s one of your many gifts. Some people have different gifts, perhaps, just a tad bit more weird or supernatural.” I smiled softly in response, pulling out the freshly filled bucket of milk from under one of the cows.
“Honey?” Dray’s voice whisked me back to reality.
Realizing I’d been daydreaming about tending to the cows, I respond rather hastily: “S- Sorry- what’s up?”
He smiles, but quickly shifts into a deep frown. “We have company.” He takes my hand into his, and pulls me urgently towards our house. As we rush back, I feel dazed by what’s happening, but then slowly I start to hear it.
Chanting. They’re chanting our names.
Loud boots stomping against lush dirt far off in the distance, and faint chants from what sounded like an angry mob. Dray was running now, nearly dragging me along. I cry out in pain, and startled, he let’s go. I fall down, but before I can hit the ground, he breaks my fall by catching me in his arms. “Sorry, my love,” He apologizes wistfully, “Are you okay?” “Let’s hurry,” I insist, and we make our way home. As we draw closer, the chanting becomes louder. My hands were shaking, and somewhere in my gut I already suspected the worst. They were going to kill us, weren’t they? “We must cast the darkness out, and lay waste to those who betray our Kingdom,” Someone shouts from afar. Dray takes my hand again, gripping it tightly as we reach the house. We still couldn’t see who the voices were coming from, but I could recognize this one. “Out with the darkness,” My old friend Taryn cries out. His voice booms with not just anger, but sheer frustration, too. Frustration at my betrayal, and the plight of realizing the person you once loved faked their death to be with someone else– A person who was prophesied to lay waste to the entire world. But prophecies could be broken right? We proved that once before.
Dray slams open the door of our house, and as we step inside the chanting suddenly stops. The house is quiet, but the walls were thin, so why couldn’t we hear anything? The once dark lord looks at me, just as confused as I am. Something is wrong. “Where’s Cher?” He asks. “Right here,” Taryn’s voice responds. And much to our dismay, as we turn to face him, the bloodied form which was once Cher’s body falls down in front of us.
Once again, please don’t be afraid to give me feedback on this story. I wanna hear the good, and the flaws you see within the story. Give me some constructive critiques.
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Until next time everyone! Hazel, out.
