The Royal Bodyguard

The sword almost slipped from his hand, as his opponent feinted sharply. He was weary with exhaustion, but giving up was not an option.

Giving up meant breaking the trust of the king who had made him his royal bodyguard.

And so, he dug deep into the inner recesses of his soul, and attacked, one last time.

A fountain of blood spurted out, followed by a cry that shook the palace to its core.

And as he looked in alarm at the king’s bloodied nose, and the triumphant fly flitting about, all that the monkey could say was, “Oops!”

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99 words.

Written as a part of Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch April 25: Flash Fiction Challenge

Note: This is my take on an ancient Indian tale, from a brilliant collection of folklore called the Panchtantra, written centuries ago. These are stories about talking animals, magic, seers and curses, and adventure galore, but each tale has a moral embedded into it. Here’s the original story, for those interested: http://www.talesofpanchatantra.com/the-king-and-the-foolish-monkey

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