King Phillip and William Charles Henry III

February 27, 2008
By Tyler Goerge, Mattawan, MI

King Phillip gazed miserably out of his castle window while surveying the damage the dragon had inflicted the night before. For about two months now the dragon had taken a liking to entering King Phillip’s small medieval village and destroying property. This has to stop, thought King Phillip. He raised a conch shell to his lips and blew three short notes. Almost instantly a servant appeared at his side. King Phillip issued an order. “Go and find the most able-bodied man you can find.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” came the reply, and the servant dispatched. About twenty minutes later, he reappeared with William Charles Henry III. King Phillip recognized him as the town’s blacksmith.

“Take a seat,” King Phillip stated, gesturing toward a chair as red as blood. William sat down uncertainly. King Phillip started pacing back and forth in front of him. Soon he started talking. “As you know, the dragon has been terrorizing the town for a while. It has to stop. I know I am asking a lot of you, but I would like you to find and slay the dragon.” King Phillip looked up to see William’s reaction. What he saw surprised him. King Phillip had expected a look of fear. Instead, William wore an expression of confidence.

“What will I need?” he asked.

Two days later, however, William Charles Henry III did not look so confident. He was galloping on a horse, traveling on an abandoned dirt road, and off to slay a dragon with only a short steel sword and a shield. He looked back at his town. He was galloping away from his work, away from his family, away from everything he knew. His steed was growing tired, and starting to slow down. When William kicked it to speed up again, the horse’s head turned around and gave him that you-did-not-just-do-that look. Nonetheless, it picked up its pace, and William resumed looking at the barren wasteland, listing to the wind howl, and feeling his fear grow. After a while, William caught sight of a rock. As he drew closer, he realized it was not a rock at all, but a massive granite cave. Smaller rocks surrounded it. William dismounted, and sat down and closed his eyes to think. He decided to go search for the dragon.
William stood up to mount his steed. He blinked. It was gone. He looked to his left. Nothing. There was nothing to his right either. William slowly looked down. Blood stained the once-green grass. He snapped his head up as a sort of a belching sound came from the dragon’s mouth, and as if in slow motion, William saw the fire stream towards him. He pulled out his shield, but he questioned himself. Will I be fast enough? The answer came. The fire angled off his shield, and with one sweeping motion, William Charles Henry III cut off the dragon’s head.
He slumped to the ground, exhausted, and after a while he realized he had no way to return home. He started walking.
Four days later….
William Charles Henry III was numb with cold. He couldn’t feel his limbs. The taste of his last meal (pita bread) still lingered in his mouth, and he somehow couldn’t rid himself of the horrible stench of blood. The atmosphere around him was silent, and nothing was visible to the human eye except for grass and dirt. William was unsure that he would make it back to his small medieval village.

When William finally entered the town, he was greeted as a hero. King Phillip fed him, and William fell asleep on the King’s blood red chair. King Phillip went to his window, and gazed happily at his village. Thanks to William Charles Henry III, the dragon would never enter the village and inflict damage again.

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